


Celebrity Skin

by bigspicysenpai



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, Jewish Kent, M/M, Soft Hockey Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigspicysenpai/pseuds/bigspicysenpai
Summary: In an alternate universe where your soulmate's words appear on your body to help you find "The One" Kent Parson seems to have been branded for a future of greatness. With a "C" on his chest and a chip on his shoulder, he has a lot of growing up to do before he earns his happy ending.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson
Comments: 105
Kudos: 307
Collections: OMGCP AU Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art for this work will be posted to tumblr by ladymars and korechthonia
> 
> Many thanks to Dale and Ari for their beta and cheer reading, this wouldn't have been possible without you two! 
> 
> Title comes from the Hole song of the same name. 
> 
> Potential triggers: Jack's overdose is talked about, but it isn't described graphically.

**New York, New York, February 4 2003, Age 12:**

Kent sat next to his mom on the subway home from his middle school. She hadn’t said anything since they got on three stops ago.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked. 

His mom let out a deep sigh. “I can’t really say I’m happy that you started a fight, Kent.” 

“Sorry,” he said. Kent looked down at his shoes. “They wouldn’t leave Kelly alone.”

“Just because you were jealous of him flirting with Kelly—”

“Me and Kelly are just friends mom.” 

“Whatever you say, Kent,” she said, sighing again. “I’m starting to think all this hockey is making you too aggressive. Maybe you should take a break—” 

“No! Mom, please!” he begged. “I won’t fight again at school, I promise.” He turned and looked up at her. Hockey was his everything right now. He was going to go all the way. Kent  _ needed _ to go all the way.

“Kent,” she said, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s not cause a scene on the train please. No interrupting, no shouting.” 

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry ma’am,” he recited.

“Much better.” She let go of his arm. Kent dropped his shoulders and sat rigidly in the seat. “So, since you and Kelly are just friends, mind telling me why you have a black eye and Ryan has two?” 

“He called me gay,” Kent said quietly, barely audible over the chatter of the other people in the train car. 

“Come again?” she asked. 

“He called me gay and a queer,” he said, slightly louder. His mom slapped the back of his hand. Kent flinched and pulled his hand away. 

“Kent! Don’t repeat stuff like that,” she said. She grasped his hand and rubbed the red spot she had just made with her thumb.

“It’s what he said, Mom.” 

“Well, I don’t wanna hear it again. You don’t have to worry about that sort of thing, Kent,” she said, still rubbing circles on his hand where it was sore. Kent didn’t know what to say. He didn’t quite understand what he’d done wrong. He knew gay was a bad thing, but he didn’t have a clear picture of why. Ryan’s gang said it was because he hung out with Kelly and Sarah instead of other boys after class. It wasn’t his fault the boys never had anything interesting to say. 

They got off the subway at their stop and walked the few blocks to the family apartment. Kent sat at the kitchen table with his homework while his mom started dinner and they waited for his dad to get back from work. 

“Here, Kent,” his mom said. She dropped a bag of frozen veggies on the table in front of him. The thud pulled his attention away from his math book.

“What’s this for?” 

“Hold it over your eye. It should make the swelling go down faster.”

“Thanks, Ma,” he said, placing it on his face with care. Twenty minutes later Kent’s dad walked in and immediately wrapped up his mom in a hug.

“Hey, sweets, didja miss me?” He lifted her off the floor with a twirl and they kissed. Kent rolled his eyes. This happened every day; he already knew where it was going, it felt like he lived in some classic sitcom. Kent wondered if every kid that had soulpaired parents had to deal with this. 

“Kent, honey, watch so the pot doesn’t boil over for a few minutes okay?” his mom called back to Kent as they walked off to the other room. 

“Sure,” he said, knowing full well that it was going to be more than a few minutes.

His dad hadn’t even stopped to say hello, let alone ask about the ice pack. Kent made sure the range was set low enough that nothing would burn. 

He struggled to do his homework with one eye and one hand. After about an hour the veggies had mostly thawed and his homework was done. His handwriting could be better, but Kent was just happy it was finished so he could watch the Islanders pregame. 

Kent laid the bag down on the table and started putting his school books away when the oven timer buzzed. He jumped, startled by the sudden noise. No motion from the living room to indicate his mom had even noticed.

Kent sighed and took out the thermometer from the drawer. At least their antics were teaching him a few kitchen skills in passing. The beef, carrots, and potatoes were done. The gravy on the stovetop was a bit thick, but still useable. Kent turned the oven off and entered the living room to find his parents totally laced together on the couch. The TV was on, but they weren’t watching it.

Kent knocked on the doorframe to get their attention. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Oh,” his mom said, rising.“I guess I wasn’t watching the time.” 

“It turned out okay,” Kent said simply before turning around to the kitchen to gather plates and silverware. 

They ate while his dad told thrilling stories about being an accountant. His mom was adding  _ wows _ and asking questions like she hadn’t heard the same kind of story every day for the past ten years or whatever. He never asked Kent’s mom about her job as a nurse, even though her job was probably more exciting. Kent pushed his food around to make it look like he had eaten more.

“Can I be excused please?” he asked. 

“You gotta eat more than that if you want to be a big hockey player, Kenny,” his dad said. “Add a glass of milk to that too if you’re wanting to switch to defense.” 

“I’m not gonna be a D-man dad,” Kent said, dramatically skewering a piece of carrot and chewing it.

“You’re fighting like you wanna be a goon,” his dad said. “Tell me the other guy looks worse at least.” 

“Yeah, he’s got double what I got,” he said, mouth full of veggies.

“Vince, don’t encourage him,” his mom chided, “and Kent, don’t talk while you’re chewing.” 

“Sorry, Ma,” Kent said, mouth still full.

“Rach, he’s fine,” his dad said.

Kent finished his mouthful and tried to change the topic before they could argue about whether or not hockey was good for him. “Where’s Becca?”

“She texted earlier,” his mom said, “She’s visiting with her new friend Liz and then coming back.” 

“Surprised she’s not with that Mark guy,” his dad said, then downed the rest of his drink. 

“They broke up like a week ago, Dad.”

“Oh, well, she doesn’t seem too beaten up about it,”

“He was a jerk anyway,” Kent said and finally finished cleaning his plate.”Can I watch the game now?” 

“Sure,” his dad said. “Who’re they playing?” 

“Philly.” 

“Hm,” his dad hummed, “Could be a tough matchup then, yeah?” 

“Philly is second to last in their division, Dad. It should be an easy win,” Kent replied. His dad really knew nothing about hockey. Just a few names that everyone that had heard of hockey could recognize.

“Kent, you have practice early tomorrow. Don’t stay up if it goes to overtime.” 

“But—”

“No buts.”

Fine,” he sighed. He knew she probably wouldn’t check to see if he was still up or not.

Kent went to the living room and sat on the couch. He was just in time for the national anthem to start. His parents went back to their room after the dishes were done and Kent settled in to watch the game.

Halfway through the second period Kent heard someone, presumably his sister come in through the front door.

“Rebecca?” his mom called from the bedroom.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Dinner’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks!” 

His sister came and sat on the couch, tupperware and fork in hand. 

“Sup, punk.” 

“Isles are up 2-1, Flyers are taking some dumb penalties,” Kent said without looking away from the screen.

“I meant the black eye?”

“Yeah, I got it from Mom already.”

“How’d that happen?”

“Some creep kept bugging Kelly to go out with him,” Kent said. “He also kept calling me gay.”

“Kent, you probably shouldn’t fight everyone you don’t like.” 

“He had it coming.”

“Maybe, but that isn’t going to keep working after middle school,” she said. Rebecca finished her food and set the dirty tupperware on the coffee table, then propped her feet up, “Not to sound too much like Mom, Kent, but you could get arrested for a serious fight in high school. How would you play hockey then?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kent said waving his hand in the air. “I’ll keep it on the ice.” 

“Ugh, sorry for trying to be helpful.”

“If I get into juniors I won’t even go to high school here.”

“I know you hate it here, but I’ll miss you, yaknow?” 

“Gross,” he replied. She sighed in response. 

They sat quietly for a while, Becca flipping through her homework on the couch while Kent watched the start of the third period. At some point his sister left to clean her dishes and returned with a couple sodas. Halfway through the third period Becca closed her school book with a noisy snap. 

“Jeez, warn a guy next time.“

“You’ll live,” she said. She got up and grabbed a blanket from the basket, then switched off the lights in the living room. His sister sat back on the couch right next to Kent. She threw her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close.

“Whyyy,” he moaned, drawing out the end of the word. He made a pathetic attempt at squirming away. He was complaining mostly for show at this point. He secretly loved when his sister got affectionate. 

“I just worry about you, squirt,” she said, squeezing him. 

“I can handle myself, Becca.” 

“You know I can see through that bullshit, Kenny. You’re still stuck on something.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. The truth was that he knew what the issue was. He had won the fight, the asshole kid looked like an old pear, and the Islanders were about to win. His parents were oblivious to anything but each other. All of that was par for the course in Kent’s life. There was just one thing about today that was bugging him. If he was honest, Kent was afraid to express the thing eating away at him to anyone.

“How about we make a deal,” Becca said, a few minutes later. She ran a hand over his head, messing up his hair.

“If I agree will you be quiet for the rest of the game?” he said, ruffling hers back.

“Absolutely,” she said, releasing him from the hold. “So here’s the deal, I tell you what’s bugging me and you tell me what’s bugging you.” 

“You first,” he said.

“Fair,” she said, “So— this is kind of a secret.”

“Shoot,” he said. Regardless of the answer, he’d keep a secret for Becca.

“The real reason I left my boyfriend,”

“Oh, juicy,” Kent added sarcastically, watching the game clock countdown. “You know how much I love gossip.”

“Liz said the words,” she whispered.

“You don’t mean—” 

“Yeah.” She rolled back her sleeve to show Kent her words. There were still a few missing. 

_ “That dress is _______ ___ ___”  _ The “T” was in one of those fancy decorated squares, like out of a fairy tale book. The rest of the lettering was a light flowy cursive trailing down her arm. It certainly looked girly. 

“How can you be sure if the whole thing isn’t there?” Kent asked.

“It just feels right Kent.”

“So you’re like a lesbian?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m bi actually,” she said. “Are you gonna be cool about that?”

“Becca—” he hesitated, the words became lead in his mouth. 

“If you’re not okay, you better not tell Mom and Dad,” she said, her expression worried.

“No it’s cool, it’s just—” he said. She’s going to be cool. He said he’d be cool. Why is saying it so hard?

“Take your time, bro.”

“The secret I was gonna tell you,” Kent said, his mind still floundering, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. “You know how I don’t have any words yet?” 

“You know it’s okay if you don’t, Kent.” she patted him on the shoulder. “They’re supposed to start showing up when you have big life experiences.” 

“That’s not what I’m getting at, Becca.” 

“Sorry, go ahead.” 

“Even though I don’t have any clue about my soulmate—” he said, trying to find the main idea among all the racing thoughts. “When the guy called me queer today, it— It really hurt. I got defensive.” 

“So you fought him over that?” 

“I don’t know who it is, but I know it’s a guy. I like guys Becca.” He had finally managed to say it. He felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Kent looked at his sister’s soft expression, oddly contoured by the blue light from the TV.

“Oh, Kenny,” his sister said. She came back over to his side of the couch and closed him into a hug. “Thanks for telling me.” 

“A secret for a secret, yeah?” 

“For sure.” When she let him go, Kent could see that she was teary eyed too. 

“Our word, to the grave if we have to,” he said. His mom had reacted so badly on the train earlier, he didn’t even want to consider telling her right now. 

“Let’s hope for better than that, Kent.” 

“Yeah.”

The game ended in an Islanders win and the Parson siblings went to their rooms for the night, a shared secret closer than they had been before.

The next morning, Kent was up at six to get to hockey practice. He was in the middle of groggily brushing his teeth when he noticed a black curve peeking out from beneath his collar. He hastily pulled his shirt off, knocking the toothbrush out of his mouth into the sink. 

_ “Congratulations __ _______ _____! _ ”

A Captain’s “C” was right over his left pec, bold white with a black outline. The rest of the word was in a heavily inked black print. Kent resisted the urge to wake up his sister to show her. He decided he could let everyone know at dinner tonight. It wasn’t like the mark was going away anytime soon. He picked his toothbrush up from the sink and put his shirt back on. Kent felt like he could cry again. He finally had confirmation that there was someone out there waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rimouski, Quebec, September 27 2006, Age 15:**

When Kent finally got drafted into junior hockey — in Canada no less — he knew he was going to be congratulated at some point. His mark now read: “ _ Congratulations on getting _____!”  _ His dad liked to brag that it meant he was going to win an award and fall for the model presenting the trophy, destined for fame and success. Becca joked that a sarcastic medic was going to diagnose him with an STI. 

He was sort of hoping it would be a guy on his team so they would have time to be alone before he had to talk to his parents about it. But it could also be a distraction. Kent wasn’t sure that he wanted a soulmate on his team making him sentimental and thinking about them before he focused on going pro. Hockey had to come before anything else if he wanted to make it to the big show. 

His mom had just dropped him off with his billet family. She was chatting with them in the living room while Kent arranged his things in the bedroom he’d be sharing with his future teammate. She could only stay in Rimouski for a day before heading back to New York, unable to afford to take the time off work. Becca was in college out of state, he was going to be playing hockey all across Quebec. They had enough money to get by but the expenses were starting to add up. Kent knew they wanted to hide it from their kids, but Becca’s college was really expensive and they had already moved to a smaller place once since he started high school. 

Kent tossed his duffel on the top bunk to claim it. He’d be sharing with one of his teammates, whenever the guy got in. The host parents seemed nice enough, spoke English enough that Kent didn’t feel super obligated to use the French phrasebook his dad had tucked into his bag. 

Instead, Kent flipped on the TV in the room and began surfing the various channels until he found something with hockey highlights. The commentary wasn’t in English, but Kent spoke hockey. 

After about an hour of watching CHL highlights Kent had ascertained that “boot” meant goal and that was about the extent of his understanding. There was a light knock at the door. 

“Come in,” Kent called. The handle turned and Kent sat up. A taller boy with dark hair, pale blue eyes, and a dour expression entered. 

“ _ Bonjour?” _ Kent tried. 

“Don’t,” the boy said curtly.

“So you’re good with English?” Kent asked.

“Yeah,” the boy said, setting his bag on the bottom bunk.

“Oh, thank god.” 

“We’re here to play hockey; if you’re proficient at that, we’ll get along fine,” he said, without a hint of sarcasm. The boy had a slight accent, but only just. 

“They don’t usually call you up from the states to play here unless you’re good, yeah?”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” His tone was just on the right side of competitive that Kent didn’t think the guy was a total jerk.

“I’ll skate circles around you tomorrow, that’s a promise.” Kent hopped down from the bunk and extended his hand. “Kent Parson, just another gritty New Yorker with something to prove.” The boy’s expression ticked up into a soft smile as he grasped Kent’s hand. 

“Kent, I’m Jack, from Montreal. I hope we can play well together.” Kent zoned out a bit looking at Jack. He had a bit of roundness in his cheeks, sleepy bags beneath his eyes, his lips were thin, but not as chapped as a typical hockey bro. Jack’s mouth returned to a frown. “Is there something in my teeth?” 

Kent yanked his hand away, deftly tucking it into the pocket of his hoodie. “Nah, just making sure you had them all,” he joked. “My dad warned me against rooming with a goon.” 

Jack smiled again, laughing. Now that was a sight to behold.

“Hey,” Jack said, “My parents are out chatting with the Desjardins and your mom, if you’d like to meet them before the team does.” 

“Uh— okay?” Kent puzzled. 

“Do you not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“My name is Jack Zimmermann.”

“Not ringing a bell.”

“ _ Mais, câlisse—sérieux? _ ” 

“What?”

“You really don’t know,” Jack said, eyes wide.

“Is your dad like the president or something?” Kent asked. “I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know shit about Canada other than hockey and syrup.” Jack rolled his eyes. 

“My dad is ‘Bad’ Bob Zimmermann.” 

“Oh, yeah! I’ve heard of him. He was on the Pens when they won the cup last right?”

“And the Habs before that.” 

“I’m more of an Islanders fan, so sorry I didn’t remember.”

“It’s uh, no sweat?” Jack half-said, half-asked. “Usually by this point in a conversation people just want to talk about how cool my dad is.”

“My dad’s in finance. He’s never done a cool thing in his life.” Jack laughed heartily at that. Kent felt his cheeks warm. Laughing Jack was beautiful. Kent needed to see more of that.

“The team is probably going to be swarming him tomorrow, so if you wanna ask him something probably do it today.” 

“If he has a motivational quote that’ll get me the Cup at 18 I’ll take it.” Kent chirped. 

“Euh, that’s more likely an Uncle Wayne thing.” 

“Do you actually know Wayne fucking Gretzky?”

“Our lake house in Nova Scotia is right between his and Uncle Mario’s, so I grew up around a lot of hockey people I guess.” 

“If you say one more rich kid thing I’m going to be forced to take for your lunch money Zimms.” 

“I think my parents are eating here actually.” Jack said quizzically. Kent laughed at the misunderstanding. 

“I was chirping you, Zimmermann.” 

“Haha, alright,” Jack laughed. “Seriously though, are you hungry? I’m not really sure how my mom knows Mrs. Desjardins, but she said she makes amazing  _ Pâté Chinois.” _

“Uh, okay. I don’t know what that is but I’m good to try whatever as long as it’s not pork.”

“Oh, it’s like a shepherd's pie.” Jack placed a hand on his chin in thought. “My mom didn’t say if they keep Kosher here, but it’s usually beef or lamb.”

“Beef and carbs sounds perfect.” 

“Hey, Kent?” Jack asked, turning for the door. 

“Yeah, Zimms?” 

“Can I call you Kenny?” 

“I like the sound of that.” Jack smiled at Kent again. Jack hadn’t said Kent’s words, but Kent’s heart was fluttering anyway. He hoped it wouldn’t become a problem.


	3. Chapter 3

**Montreal, Quebec, June 19 2008, Age 17:**

Kent woke up the day before the NHL draft vibrating with excitement. The days counting down to the draft had been passing at a snail’s pace. He could hardly sleep lately, so he was showering at the crack of dawn just to get the day moving. Everything in his life was going better than he could have ever expected. His and Jack’s team had just won the President cup. They were both going to Centre Bell in a day where the entire hockey world expected them to be picked first and second in the draft.

The only slightly negative thing that Kent could think of was that he and Jack would have to be on different teams for a couple years. Kent figured any NHL contract would have him set for life, so if he dropped a few thousand to be in the same city and on the same team as Jack it would all be worth it. No team would be willing to pass up their amazing cooperation. 

Speaking of, Kent heard a rustling from the covers. Jack must have just woken up. Kent jumped back into the hotel bed, nearly landing on top of Jack. 

“ _ Bonjour _ , sleepyhead,” Kent said. He snaked his fingers down Jack’s side stopping at his hip. Jack’s words tracing just around his waistline: “ _ Hey y’all, I brought ___ __ _____”  _ Jack’s words were longer than Kent’s. Allegedly that meant he had to experience more before meeting his soulmate. There were a million stories around how soulwords worked. Since his sister had met her soulmate with fewer than half of the words filled in, Kent assumed it was mostly bunk anyway.

Jack groaned, tossing a pillow that went wide over Kent’s shoulder.

“How are you not totally excited yet?” Kent asked, leaning over Jack’s drowsy form. A few droplets of water fell from his shower-wet hair onto Jack’s face and neck. 

“ _ Osti _ , Kenny, it’s not even 8—” Jack shoved him off. “And you’re dripping all over the sheets.” 

“The cleaners are gonna change ‘em as soon as we leave anyway.” 

“Where are you even going this early?”

“The deli down the street has lox bagels,” Kent said, pulling on a pair of boxers. “Want one?” 

“Don’t feel up to eating,” Jack said, rolling over and putting a pillow over his head. 

“Four hangover days in a row will do that to you, I hear.”

“Fuck off, Kenny.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Kent said and moved the pillow to peck Jack’s cheek. 

“You’re getting me wet, asshole.” Jack flipped onto his back, staring at Kent. “You planning on going out in just boxers?” 

“It’ll give the media something to talk about other than which one of us is going first,” Kent chirped. 

“You know your agent—” Jack stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on Kent’s chest. 

“See something you like?” 

“Kenny,” Jack said. He traced a finger over the “C” over Kent’s heart. Jack’s eyes widened as he ran his hand along Kent’s words. “Have you looked in the mirror today?” 

“No, why—” he started then realized what Jack was getting at. He sprung out of bed to check the mirror. 

The thick font read: “ _ Congratulations on getting first!”  _ His soulmark was finally complete. Kent could hardly contain his excitement as he snapped a photo. He sent it to both his sister and his parents immediately. His sister sent back a keysmash and a trophy emoji. His parents were probably still asleep, having arrived in Montreal late the night before. When he finally left the bathroom, Jack was sitting up in bed. He looked paler than before. 

“Hey, you sure you’re good?” Kent asked, “I can pick up some medicine or something.” 

“I’ll be fine Kenny.” 

“You look pretty sick, Zimms.” he said, poking at Jack’s ribs. Jack swatted his hand away. 

“I said I’m fucking fine,  _ Kent _ ,” he said, an edge in his voice. “I just need some time alone.”

“Jeez,” Kent said, scratching the back of his head. “We’re about to be NHL players with fucking millions of dollars coming our way for the rest of our damn lives. What could you possibly have to worry about this time?” 

“Well I was already fucking hung over, so I was in a shit mood to start,” Jack sat up from the bed and started to raise his voice. “Now fate has decided to let us fucking know you’re going first tomorrow, so sorry if I seem a bit pissed off!” Kent felt his temper flare at Jack’s ire.

“You’re going to get drafted in the first round anyway!” Kent shouted back. “You’re not a fucking failure if you go second overall in the goddamn NHL draft! Did you ever think that maybe it could be completely unrelated? And if it isn’t?” Kent asked, walking back to Jack’s side. “You couldn’t be happy for me?”

“Whatever— my head hurts. I’m fucking done talking to you.” Jack flopped back down on the bed, face down, hidden from Kent’s gaze and the light.

“Dick,” Kent huffed, then finished dressing and left in silence. Jack had been irritable since the playoffs had ended. He had been irritable during the playoffs. Honestly the only time he wasn’t irritable anymore was at the nightly parties they had been attending. 

Kent shut the hotel room door and pushed all the air out of his lungs to calm himself. Maybe it was good that he and Jack were splitting up to their new teams for a year. Kent cared about Zimms, but after that fight he needed some air. Kent stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor.

The elevator announced the  _ Rest de Chaucer  _ or whatever. He still hadn’t gotten a handle on French even after two years in Quebec. When he stepped out into the lobby, Bob and Alicia were lying in wait. 

“Kent! Good morning!” Bob said as he stepped out. Kent slapped on a smile as if he hadn’t just been in a shouting match with their son and extended his hand for a shake, but Bob pulled him in for a hug. 

“We were just coming up to see if you two wanted anything from the hotel restaurant before it closes,” Alicia said. 

“I was just about to go to that deli on the corner for some breakfast actually.” 

“Mind if we walk with you?” Bob asked. 

“Of course you can come,” Kent replied.

“Is Jack on his way?” Alicia asked.

“He went back to bed,” Kent said as they walked out of the building. “He said he wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to eat.” 

Bob sighed audibly. “He’s worrying himself sick over the draft, isn’t he?” 

“Seems that way, yeah.” Kent said, shuffling across the sidewalk. “He thinks that if he doesn’t go first, it’s like he’s not gonna be drafted.” 

“I mean hell, I wasn’t even drafted in the first round,” Bob said, combing his hand through his hair. “I was lucky to be played my rookie year, you boys are going to be starters on whichever rebuilding team drafts you right away.” 

Alicia set a hand on Bob’s shoulder. 

“Bob, you know it’s not a logical thing. His therapist said we need to work at his pace. We can’t force him to stop thinking that way. I know you’ve spoken to him many times about what being in the league is like, but— ” 

They stopped at a crosswalk and Bob pulled Alicia aside, Kent fell in a few steps away. “I’ll talk to him when we get back, I promise. We’ll let him sleep a bit longer, bring him breakfast, and have a conversation about it again. Maybe we can get him to Skype Dr. Hubert and hopefully that will help with the stress. Then we’ll go to the draft and whatever happens happens. We both know we’ll be proud of him no matter what team he ends up on.” 

“I suppose he’ll understand come tomorrow,” Alicia said, sighing. “Sorry for the delay, Kent. You could’ve gone ahead if you wanted.” 

“I don’t mind waiting, Mrs. Z.” Kent said shifting his weight onto his other leg. “Jack means a lot to me too, so I want to support him however I can.” 

“We appreciate it, Kent. I know Jack appreciates you looking out for him too, even if he isn’t saying it right now,” Alicia said motioning Kent to cross the street “I hope you two can stay close even when you’re not on the same team.”

“Yeah,” Kent said heading into the crosswalk. “I think we will.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Centre Bell,** **Montreal, Quebec, June 20 2008, Age 17:**

Kent sat in Centre Bell, numb to the rumble of the gathered crowd around him. Painfully aware of the three empty seats to his right. The NHL commissioner had just given his speech, and the Aces GM was about to take the podium. The din of the crowd faded as the GM started to make his canned thanks to the hosts of the event and the owners of the stadium. 

The chatting prospects around him waiting for their fates to be decided had an almost purgatorial feel. Every prospect in the room probably expected he would be the first name called. After all, there was no other candidate standing in his way of going first now. Watch them pick him second for the shakeup. Now that would give Kent a shock. He tried to calm his nerves, but it felt like his heart had been racing nonstop for the last 24 hours. 

Getting back from breakfast with the Zimmermans, hoping that Jack would be in a better mood. Taking the elevator up to the room, setting the extra bagel and medicine on the desk. They all had thought he must have gone out on his own. He hadn’t responded when they called to check if he was awake. Alicia stepping into the bathroom to fix her hair. Bob’s voice in hurried French on the phone with the 911 operator. Alicia crying. Kent shocked-silent, legs glued to the floor. 

“ **The Las Vegas Aces are proud to select Kent Parson** !” 

What could he have done differently? Was Jack thinking about what he was doing? Which part of the argument was the tipping point? 

“Kent, get up son!” his dad shouted over the applause. “You’ve gotta get down there and accept your jersey!” 

“Right,” he said. Kent stood and started towards the stage. 

As he stood a hand met his shoulder from the row of seats just behind them. One of the other top prospects. Kent didn’t know the guy’s name, just that he was Russian. 

“Congratulations on getting first!” he said. 

The words shot like an arrow through the noise of the crowd. It had thrown Kent off his rhythm entirely. His legs stopped him in his tracks, but his dad pushed him forward in his stupor. His parents either hadn’t heard it, were pretending they didn’t hear it from a boy, or didn’t care either way. Still at a loss for words he waved to the crowd, making eye contact again with his  _ Soulmate _ . The boy offered a thumbs up and a smile in return. Kent’s focus was totally shot. He hoped that if he gave an embarrassing interview right now his soulmate wouldn’t be within earshot. 

Kent finished the walk up to the stage. He shook the GM’s hand robotically, counting to three shakes. He accepted the jersey, already customized with “Parson 90” on it. He plastered on a smile for the photos and stood holding the GM’s hand again until the event’s staff waved them on. 

Kent was shepherded to a backstage area for more photos and interviews. He had talked over things with his agent that morning as he left the hospital. They all decided that it was for the best that he made no comments on Jack. The journalists were still going to be prodding about him regardless, so Kent steeled himself to try and not tear up about Jack in an interview today. If he tried to make a real answer he’d probably start crying on camera. 

“ **The Seattle Schooners are proud to select Mattias Sorensen!”**

Things were moving past him already. Kent just needed to relax. After the photographers started moving on to the next prospect coming back, Kent grabbed a water bottle and found a chair in the staging area. His parents were probably being led back here soon. He expected more journalists to arrive at any moment. It had to go to commercial sometime. After the first round was over there would probably be a few photos and then maybe someone else would get an interview, talk to his new coach and whatever team member wanted to make the trip to Montreal for the draft. He’d be able to go visit Jack after this was all over. Jack would get through his rehab and retrain and get drafted next year. The second pick, a kid from Sweden came back into the staging area for interviews. They probably weren’t going to bug him about Jack. He probably had barely any clue who Jack was. He wasn’t prepared to get second probably, so his rehearsed answers would all be slightly off. Kent took a long pull from the water bottle. 

**“The Providence Falconers are proud to select Alexei Mashkov!”**

The world was marching onwards. Kent wanted to start thinking about his new life as a professional hockey player, but he was still so worried about Jack. He had regained consciousness, but he still hadn’t had enough energy to talk at length. Kent watched as Sorensen came towards him in the rest area. Kent really didn’t feel like making small talk. Hopefully they could just be chill together. Hopefully the guy would accept that he was tired because of the attention. 

“Hey, man.” Sorensen said extending a hand to shake. Kent complied. 

“Hey.” 

“So this is it, huh? Big NHL stage. So exciting to get this chance to play professionally,” Sorensen said, taking a seat next to Kent. His accent was much better than Kent had expected. The guy seemed nice enough, but Kent wanted to hear as few interview answers as possible. He was ready to get out of here. 

“Look, I don’t want to seem like a jerk, but I’m really out of it. Not up for talking today.” Sorensen’s brow furrowed as he processed Kent’s response. 

“You feel bad because your friend isn’t here?” Sorensen asked. Kent sighed loudly. He shouldn’t be mean. This guy probably didn’t intend to be as direct as he was being. Kent should know that with how rough of a time he had in a few years of very limited French. Kent decided to keep it simple.

“I know you want to be polite. I’m tired and I feel a little sick. I don’t want to talk about my friend.” Kent replied curtly and then sat down. Sorensen seemed to understand, taking a seat across from Kent but not bothering him with more questions. They sat in silence until Sorensen eventually got called away for another interview.

Kent got up and paced, staring down at his phone. Bob was going to text him about Jack soon. Hopefully they could hang out for a bit today if he was feeling better. Kent really didn’t want to ship off to Vegas without a proper goodbye. Kent turned at the end of his path to go back towards the refreshments— and promptly collided bodily with someone that was right behind him. Kent stepped back from the impact, but kept his footing. 

“Hey!” The person said, gripping Kent’s shoulder. “Be careful where you are going!” 

Kent looked back in shock. It was the boy from earlier. His  _ soulmate _ , Alexei Mashkov apparently. Just drafted by the Falconers. Kent was too shocked to speak. He didn’t know what he could say. What was he going to say that had been etched on this guy forever? Kent regarded his soulmate and the C on his chest felt like it was burning. 

At the same time his phone started to ring in his hand. Kent looked away and checked to see who was calling. It was Lorraine, she was probably trying to get ahold of him about a contract update or an interview. Kent made a choice. He wasn’t going to say anything. He owed Jack before he could start talking to someone else. This guy was going to be on the other side of the country too. Kent wasn’t ready for a long distance relationship with someone he wasn’t already best friends with. Kent used his free hand to pull his soulmate’s hand off his shoulder and answered his phone. Mercifully, Lorraine started talking immediately.

Kent looked at his soulmate in the eyes and chose to walk in the other direction. Mashkov said something after he turned but Kent couldn’t hear it over Lorraine’s description of where she was backstage. 

“Kent? Can you hear me?” Lorraine said over the phone.

Kent finally replied when he turned the corner of the backroom in the arena. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” Kent felt a little bad for keeping Mashkov in the dark, though he was glad he gave himself the chance to do the soulmate thing on his terms. Most people don’t get to think about it. 

He endured an interview with his parents, his dad talking so much about how much he had known Kent was always going to be a winner, how much they supported him, and the same rehashed joke about how they now had a second reason to go to Vegas. Over and over and over. He’d almost forgotten about looking out for his soulmate while they navigated the journalists and photographers. Kent didn’t want to risk letting Mashkov know before he was ready. 

**“The Houston Aeros are proud to select Ryan Collins!”**

Kent felt his words on his skin itch. He couldn’t tell if his mark was reinforcing that his words had been said or that he was choosing to ignore them. Then Kent spotted him again. Mashkov was talking to a journalist Kent had been with a while ago. He was going to be occupied for a while. Kent became aware of his phone buzzing in his pocket. As soon as he was able he stepped aside, trying to make sure he didn’t stray too close to his soulmate. 

**Bob:** Congrats from us! I don’t know the Aces well, but I’m sure they’ll take great care of you. Jack is awake again and talking some. Alicia and I want to see you off before you go to Vegas. Hopefully we can all visit after things calm down here.

**Unknown Number:** Hi Kent, this is Raymond Reyes. Your new captain on the Aces! Sorry I couldn’t be there to meet you in person, but let me know if you have any questions or need help with anything while you make your move to beautiful Las Vegas! The GM and coach will help you to the hotel, but we can figure out something more permanent for you after camp. See you soon! 

Kent leaned against the wall as he wrapped his head around the information. Everything was happening too fast. His soulmate, his new team, the NHL, moving to the other side of the continent, and Jack… He really needed to see Jack before leaving. Bob and Alicia wanted him to come. Jack couldn’t be drafted this year, but he’ll do fine anyway. Maybe he could get onto Kent’s team next year. That would be ideal, no team could resist the idea of having the two of them together.

Kent made a beeline for his parents and his agent who were chatting near the refreshments. 

“How much longer do we need to be here?” he asked his agent directly. 

“All the interviews have moved past you and I have the info for your arrangements in Vegas,” she said leafing through her folder. 

“So–” 

“Kent,” his mom chastised. 

“Sorry, it’s just that Jack is doing better and I’d like to talk to him before I fly to the other side of creation and I’m busy for the next year,” he said hurriedly. 

“That’s fair,” his dad added unhelpfully. His mom grasped his shoulder in warning. Lorraine shut the folder and checked her watch. 

“If you’ve no interest in talking with the other draftees, I suppose we can leave. There’s a sort of afterparty in one of the ballrooms, but they’re only on draft twelve of thirty-four for round one.” 

“I’m sure I’ll meet most of them at some point during the preseason,” Kent said with a shrug. His mom gave him a look. He knew he was being rude. He just wanted to see the Zimmermanns and check on Jack. Maybe tell him off for being a dumbass if they got a moment alone, punctuated with a kiss goodbye. Kent wondered what Jack was going to do with his year off. After Jack got better he was still going to be one of the most talented rookies the NHL had ever seen. At least this way, Kent thought, they could both win the Calder.

Kent left the arena, head still buzzing with the wild sequence of events of the past few days. Only after Alicia told him that Jack didn’t want to see him did Kent start to feel like he’d missed a few things along the way. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Las Vegas, Nevada, August 25 2010, Age 20:**

“Parseeeeer!” Swoops called out, the words echoing up the stairs into the bedroom. “Wake uuuuuup!” 

Kents eyes creaked open when Swoops threw his door open. Swoops threw himself dramatically on top of Kent. Kit bounced up and bolted from the room. Swoops shook Kent by the shoulder, again urging him to get out of bed. 

“C’mon man,” Swoops said. “Coach  _ will _ suspend you if you don’t come to the first full-roster practice. Even if you are captain now.”

Kent only groaned in response. 

“Parser, I hope to God you’re wearing boxers.” 

“Wha–” Kent said groggily as the covers were torn away from him, exposing his body to the blasting AC in their Vegas condo. 

“Oh, good,” Swoops said. “You’re decent— well about as decent as you get.” 

“Shut the hell up Swoops.” Kent propped himself up on his arm. “What time even is it?”

“It’s 8:30, pal. I generously gave you forty-five minutes to shower and do all your basic white girl skincare shit before we have to get to the arena.”

“Fuckin’–” Kent pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “If our games are at night why do I always have to get up so damn early on weekdays. It’s not holy.” Swoops chuckled and sat down on the mattress. 

“Hangover that bad, eh?” Swoops squinted at Kent’s neck, “Or rather the hookup?”

Kent suddenly became intensely aware that he wasn’t wearing his concealer. He grabbed at his neck to cover his exposed soulmark and jokingly hit Swoops with a pillow to distract him. 

“Hey!” He protested. “All the shit you say to me and I’m the one in trouble?” 

“You know too much Swoops,” Kent said, switching to pushing the pillow onto his face. “You have to be taken out.” 

“Mrmph—” Swoops struggled against him and broke free. Swoops tossed the pillow across the room and stood in front of Kent, arms crossed.“I won’t tell people about the hickey or who it came from dude! You know that!” 

“That’s why we’re friends Swoops, I can trust you with all the soap opera that is my life.” 

“Nobody else could handle the level of bullshit you go through on an average weekend.” 

Kent got out of bed and started towards the bathroom. “I barely handle the shit I do on the weekends,” he said, with his back to his friend. 

“Parser—” 

“It’s cool Swoops, I’ll be too busy to get into trouble when the season starts.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not okay man,” Swoops said from behind him. 

“I don’t need to see a shrink,” Kent said. He was probably lying. He probably needed help. He wasn’t using hard drugs or anything. He was just binge drinking and seeking out physical intimacy with perfect strangers to cope with his ex pretending he didn’t exist. Nothing was wrong with that, nothing at all. 

“I didn’t say that Parser,” Swoops said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I just— I know you’ve had to deal with some rough shit and I’m here if you wanna talk. That whole deal with Zimmermann—” 

“I am so not ready to have that conversation,” Kent said, still facing away to hide his chest. 

“Just– let me finish.” Swoops said. “You had a wild first year, you got thrust into this position at the end of your second year. Your parents visited us a grand total of once before the playoffs? You’re still only twenty, man. You just don’t have to do everything alone.” 

Kent sighed deeply. “Too observant. You definitely know too much,” Kent said, turning back to face Swoops. “Kit!” he yelled towards the hallway, “end this fool.” He looked Swoops in the eyes. “Last words?” 

“Can I hug you?” Swoops asked, arms extended.

“And you’re sure you’re not the gay one with all this emotional bullshit?” Kent chirped, leaning in to meet his best friend.

“Everyone needs to be softer, Parse.” 

“Gross,” Kent interjected. Swoops squeezed him tighter, then let go. 

“Besides, I know I don’t have “I’m not that fucking short!” tattooed on my ass, so—”

“And I was so close to sparing you too,” Kent said. 

“At least I died doing what I loved, chirping your sorry ass.” 

“We both know this ass doesn’t have anything to apologize for.” 

“Truer words have never been spoken.” Swoops said, he stroked his imaginary beard and gave Kent an appraising look. “The guy with “It’s Britney Bitch.” on his arm doesn’t know what he’s missing.” 

Kent rested his head on Swoops’ shoulder. “Just keep digging yourself deeper Swoops.”

“So, they really gave you the C from birth, huh?” he asked, innocuously. 

Kent covered his mark with his arm again. “Not quite from birth,” he said softly. “And I definitely haven’t earned this one.”

“Something tells me that story is going to take some time to unpack, too.” Swoops checked his watch. “And now you only have 40 minutes to get ready, so you’re gonna have to drip dry your hair for once.” 

“Fuuuuuck that,” Kent said, immediately pivoting towards the shower. “I’ll be ready in time. Make me my usual coffee to go.” Swoops made a face. “Just enough milk to change the color. One spoon of sugar.” 

“Magic words?” Swoops asked. 

“Kit, if he makes the coffee he can live!” Kent called from the bathroom, steam already pouring from the shower.

“That’ll have to do.” Swoops replied. 

Kent scrubbed at his body furiously, trying to clean up in a hurry. He was glad he had one friend he could trust with everything— or mostly everything. Whatever miracle of the hockey gods had let him have a roommate that was cool the first time he walked in on Kent with a dude, and the third time, and— whatever, Swoops was the best friend he could have asked for here in Vegas. Even if he wasn’t ready to talk about Zimms or Mashkov yet. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Providence, Rhode Island, December 3 2014, Age 24:**

Kent’s phone started ringing on the nightstand next to him. He looked at the clock in the hotel room. 6:48 A.M., not that it mattered. He hadn’t been sleeping. It was Becca.  _ Shit. _ He had probably sent her a really worrying string of texts while Lucky was driving them back from Samwell. He should probably answer it — in the bathroom though. He was hoping not to wake Swoops.

Kent stood from the bed, far too quickly. He immediately felt woozy. He had shotgunned a couple drinks before he’d fled the party. He knew people saw him wander off with Jack, then come back alone. He didn’t want to ditch right away. Still had to maintain the illusion of the perfect celebrity while there and he didn’t want to pull Lucky away from his old friends.

Now he was hungover and feeling gross. He needed to shower and brush his teeth and — answer the damn phone. He filled one of the small glasses by the bathroom sink and downed it as Becca’s first call went to voicemail. It started ringing again a minute after. 

“Hey,” Kent said nonchalantly. 

“What the hell do you mean  _ hey? _ ” Becca said back. “You don’t get to text me in the middle of the fucking night and leave me seventeen messages bemoaning your entire life and say  _ hey. _ ” 

“Sorry.” 

“Kent are you alright? You are in Boston still right?”

“Providence now.” 

“Eastern time still, so you were out at three in the morning and you have a game tonight.”

“Yeah I fucked up.”

“I’m not trying to lecture you Kenny, I wanted to be sure you’re okay.” 

“Just making some bad choices.” Kent sighed into the receiver. “I’m probably gonna get scratched today. You know, standard stuff.” 

“I mean, I’m not trying to badger you too much, but you may need to talk to someone about—” 

“I went to see Jack.” he said, cutting her off. 

“What!?” she half-shouted. “Is he not ignoring you anymore?” 

“Not exactly —” 

“Kent, you’ve gotta stop pushing him.” 

“It wasn’t anything special. I just kissed him and told him to leave his shitty college team.” 

“Kenny!” 

“Yeah, Becca, I know I’m a fucking asshole and an idiot already.” 

“I’m not going to yell at you. Mostly because I’m sure you have a headache and your coaches are gonna give you shit later.” 

“Yup.” 

“Just take it easy today Kenny, if you’re not gonna play focus on getting some rest.” 

“You’re the best mom I never asked for, Becca.” 

Becca laughed. “Take care of yourself Kent. Let me know if you want help finding a therapist in Vegas. Liz probably knows someone that knows someone from her network.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, this part of the sign-off felt scripted at this point. “I probably gotta go, Swoops will want the bathroom soon.” 

“Later Kenny, say hi to Mashkov for me.” 

“You’re not helping —” 

“Bye, bro.” 

Kent groaned dramatically after hanging up. He both loved and regretted telling his sister everything he did wrong in his life. He went to the sink and chugged another glass of water. He opened the door and — of course Swoops was waiting just outside.

“Becca called,” Kent said. 

“I’m glad you at least told someone where you were.”

“Lucky was with me.”

“Don’t try and pin this on the rookie backup goalie dude.” Swoops said running his hand over his bedhead. “You fucking went to Samwell again to see Zimmermann and used him as an excuse.” 

“Eavesdropping again? So much for Canadian politeness.” 

“I knew when you pulled Lucky away from the bar right after the game. I texted you three times and you ignored me.”

“Swoops, I know. I just got lectured by my sister for sending worrying texts in the middle of the night. I have a headache so I’d rather not fight about it okay?” 

“I’m tired of seeing you hurt yourself like this, Parse.” Swoops looked down for a moment than looked back at Kent. “Are you going to be okay by warmups?” 

“I could probably force myself, but I’m gonna play like crap tonight.” 

Swoops sighed. “Obviously I’m not going to rat on you to the coaches, but they’re going to want an explanation.” 

“I’ll go see a team doctor, but it’ll smooth over. Providence isn’t a super tough matchup anyways and it’s out of conference.” 

“It’s not like you to be so gung-ho about skipping a game.”

“Fighting with an ex and a hangover isn’t a good enough excuse?”

Swoops put his hand over his mouth, thinking. “If I recall correctly you scratched the last time we were in Providence too.” 

“Last year I was actually sick.” 

“I’m not done.” Swoops pointed at Kent. “You also went head-down and didn’t speak to me on the ice two weeks ago when they were in Vegas.” 

“What’s your point, Troy?” Kent’s tone soured as Swoops unraveled the mystery. 

“You’re avoiding someone on the Falcs aren’t you?” 

“And if I am?” Kent asked, defiantly. Swoops was still too observant for his own good. 

“Why?” Swoops asked plainly. “Some asshole from juniors? We wipe the floor with the Falcs on a regular basis. Whatever chirps they have on you can’t be that mean.” 

Kent thought for a moment as he formulated his reply. Maybe it was time to come clean. 

“What if I said — that one of the Falcs said something, like — really serious to me.” 

“How serious are we talking? Like blackmailing to out you? Cuz I will personally end anyone that does that.” 

“No, no — first off you’re a shitty fighter, so don’t get your ass kicked for no reason. Secondly, ugh — how do I say this…” Kent trailed off. 

He pinched his brow and willed his hangover to stop buzzing for a minute so he could get the words out correctly. “Okay so he said something to me, and I didn’t say anything back.” 

“O — kay? So you ignored a chirp?” Swoops asked perplexedly. 

“Dammit, Swoops —” Kent dragged his hand down his face in embarrassment. “I’m not talking about a fucking chirp. I’m actively avoiding my soulmate and he plays for the Falcs.”

“OH!” Swoops looked a proper amount of shocked before pressing on with his inquisition. “Wait — so how long have you been not talking to him?” 

“That’s confidential.”

“Parse — for real dude, you can at least say something even if you’re not ready. It isn’t fair to whoever it is.” 

“I literally can’t believe this. If my sister wasn’t already with her soulmate you two would be the perfect match.”

“You mean she gives you sound logical advice, too?”

Kent groaned and leaned dramatically into the doorframe. “Unbelievable — my own alternate, not willing to help me hide from the whims of the universe.” 

“I’m not going to walk you up to them and force you dude.” Swoops pulled Kent’s shoulder up off of the doorframe. “It’s just kinda cruel to keep them waiting forever. The longer you draw it out the worse it’s going to feel when they figure out how long you’ve known.” 

“Fine,” Kent said, resigned. 

“Fine?” 

“I’ll look into a therapist when we get back.”

“I happened to get the card of a therapist not far from our place–”

“Becca wanted to see if her wife knew anyone in town, actually.” 

“Whichever works best for you, dude.”

“I’m not really excited about the idea, but last night was kind of a wake up call.” 

“You can always talk to me if you want in the meantime,” Swoops offered.

“My hangover says no.” 

“Okay, let me know if that changes dude.” Swoops pulled him into a soft embrace.

“Ugh, go shower. You smell.” Kent pushed back, weakly. He probably needed the hug more than he knew.

“Whatever, man, I’m proud of the realizations you just made,” Swoops said and released him.

“I just realized my best friend and my sister want me to spend my time telling a stranger all my deepest darkest secrets.” 

“Not just any stranger, a stranger with a university degree and a convenient NDA. Besides, we can’t both be wrong all the time,” Swoops said. 

Kent sighed, “You’re a good friend Swoops.” 

“I’m trying.”

“Seriously, all the shit I put you through and you still want to hang out with me.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy Parser. And don’t think I forgot about the soulmate thing just because you distracted me by agreeing to try therapy.” 

“Mashkov can wait ‘til after therapy,” he said looking away. “I don’t want to ruin anything if I even still have a chance.”

“Wow — huh.” Swoops’ eyes widened as he linked the name with the face. Swoops hugged him again. “Drink some water and lay back down. I’ll find you a Gatorade at team breakfast after I shower.” 

“Ugh, you’re too good for me.”

“And don’t you forget it.” 

Swoops shut the door to the restroom and Kent sprawled back onto the hotel bed. He let his phone fall into the mess of sheets and closed his eyes. The bed felt like it was swaying gently. Maybe he was in the ocean or maybe he was spinning. Was it the hangover or the fact that he had just let loose all his secrets like air from a balloon? Kent registered the shower running relaxed into the bed. 

Mashkov had to wait until Kent was ready. He didn’t want anyone else getting pulled into this shipwreck he was currently disguising as a life. He was probably going to get yelled at by the coaches later. Especially if they lost, but he was a healthy scratch in an out of conference game in December. They were at the top of their conference and second in the league. They could afford to not play him today.

His thoughts drifted to what little he knew of Mashkov. Kent only knew Mashkov from his ridiculous Instagram videos. He seemed nice there, nice enough to forgive Kent for pretending he didn’t exist for six years ideally. Then he thought again of last night — and of Jack. How many times could a bridge be burnt before the remaining scraps were totally impassable? 

Kent hoped that his sister’s wife knew a fucking amazing shrink. 


	7. Chapter 7

**T-Mobile Arena, Las Vegas, Nevada, June 18 2015, Age 24:**

Kent paced in the celebration-bedecked lobby of the Vegas arena. He was totally alone at the NHL awards this year. The team hadn’t made it past the conference finals, but Kent had still managed the Rocket Richard trophy and was nominated for the Hart, so here he was. Swoops couldn’t even make it as his plus one because he had a family thing back in Winnipeg. His backup plus one, his sister, also bailed last-minute, because her wife’s baby decided to be born yesterday. 

All of this would have been fine, Kent thought. He could work a room with the best of them, he wasn’t concerned at all about that. The issue was that Mashkov was there. He’d been nominated for the King Clancy for some sort of charity work. 

Kent saw the universe’s hands at work, some sort of cruel symmetry of the awards show reminding him of how he had first heard his words at the draft. It felt like that had happened a lifetime ago. Kent fully expected to be denied either due to his reputation or when the truth of how long he’d put it off came to light. This was also probably the last NHL awards he was going to have for a while without Jack here. He was for sure going to be a Calder candidate, if not more, when he finally joined the league next season. Kent felt like he needed to call his sister or Swoops to ask for advice so he could say something to Mashkov before he was giving a speech to the whole crowd. 

Swoops didn’t answer his text right away. Of course he wouldn’t, he’s with his  _ real _ family now. Becca was similarly unhelpful. Fear mounted in Kent’s chest when he saw one of the Falconers’ alternates walk by. Kent tucked himself into a corner and started dialing his therapist’s number. As soon as he heard the line pick up, he started without making any sort of greeting.

“Anna, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have to talk to my soulmate tonight.” 

“Hello, Kent,” she replied, nonchalant. 

“Anna, what do I do?” 

“First you have to relax and rationalize,” she said evenly. “Take some calming breaths and remember that he’s just a person.” 

“A person I’ve been ignoring for about seven years.” 

“So you’ve had plenty of time to work on the perfect pick-up line.” 

“Hilarious, Anna,” Kent said. “Be sure to add that one to your open mic routine.” Kent knew she was trying to draw his attention away from the problem at hand. She had gotten really good at reading his moods over the year he had been working with her.

“I will, Kent,” she said, returning to neutral tone. “I do think you can handle hearing what he has to say, though.” 

“I’m trying really hard not to imagine all the reactions he could have when I tell the truth.” 

“He could justifiably be upset, that much is true,” she said, then paused. 

“Anna–” 

“You know how I always tell you not to dwell on disaster scenarios?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kent said exasperatedly. “I won’t know until it happens. But what can I say that’s meaningful enough? What’s gonna make up for the years of denial?” 

“I think your best course of action here is to first inhale, then exhale,” she said. Clearing her throat, she continued. “Then, whenever it happens, pull him aside once the show is over, if it happens before then. Ask him to talk in a safe place, your house or his hotel room creates an opportunity to make impulsive decisions.” 

“I’m not going to jump him right away Anna!” Kent interjected, his voice raised. He lowered it again, remembering where he was. “I’ve seen him in person enough times that I’m certain I could control  _ that _ impulse!” 

“He could also try to make an impulsive decision, Kent. Please let me finish.” 

“Right. Sorry.” 

“As I was saying, see if anyone you trust or he trusts would be willing to accompany you to a more neutral location.” 

“He’s gonna figure out about Zimms right away. He’s signing with Mashkov’s fucking team.” 

“I agree that involving your ex with this confession may complicate things, though it is a big part of your reasoning. If you want to avoid other players knowing, see if he has a manager he trusts or perhaps a PR person from either of your teams?” 

“That... makes sense.”

“After you get to a safer place to discuss personal things, I suggest telling him the truth, plainly and logically. Explain your reasoning at the time. You don’t necessarily have to say anything about Jack in specifics. Allow him to think and react to your truth, before physical affection of any sort happens.”

“Okay, Anna. I’ll try my best. Thanks for calming me down. You’re the best.” 

“That  _ is _ why you pay me the big bucks Mr. Parson.” 

“Right, well, I should probably get off the phone.” 

“One last thing Kent,” she said. 

“Yeah?” 

“Good luck, you deserve to be happy.” 

“Thanks, Anna. See you next Thursday.”

“Goodbye, Kent.” 

“Bye.” Kent hung up. 

  
  


Kent sighed, pushing all the air out of his lungs and holding it out for a while. He decided he was ready to brave the masses. He had a reputation to uphold after all. At least here he could pass for classy when he chose wine over beer. Kent worked his charms on the reporters and the crowd for a time before they made the call for people to begin moving to their tables for the filming of the awards show. 

Kent made it to his seat and wouldn’t you know it, there was a name card for one “Alexei Mashkov” positioned right next to his. Whoever was pulling the threads of fate really must think they were clever for this one. Kent set down his glass and refocused on his breathing. The Aces GM was at the next table over, giving Kent a look. His party was slightly too big to accommodate Kent and Kent’s vacant plus one, which somehow had relegated him to overflow. Not that he would have wanted to sit with the GM anyway. He was a boring rich dude that loved to remind Kent he was an asset. Kent really wished he had Swoops here. Anyone fun to talk to that could take his mind off the impending discussion.

He sent a photo of his and Mashkov’s name cards next to each other with a frowny face emoji to Swoops and Becca.    
  


**Hetero of the year:** You’ve got this dude, get the man and the Hart in one swoop :wink:

**Best little psych office in NYC:** I WISH I WAS THERE. *photo attached* Liz and baby Caleb say good luck to the world’s newest uncle! 

Of course they replied to this, rather than his frantic texts earlier. 

“George, how we get seated here? Arena is not afford pest control?” The speaker had a familiar Russian accent that instantly elevated Kent’s pulse.

“Be nice, Tater.” Kent looked up from his phone, seeing his soulmate and his soulmate’s— plus one? Moving to their places next to him. “Good evening Mister Parson,” the lady named George said. She came up to him and offered her hand for a shake. “Georgia Martin, assistant general manager for the Providence Falconers.” Perhaps not a plus one then.

Kent realized he was leaving her hanging, with a slightly surly looking Mashkov at her side. Kent stood up, hurriedly, panicked about the entire situation. In his haste, he caught the edge of the table leg with his foot, sending himself sprawling towards the ground. He reached out for anything to grab for balance. Unfortunately, the thing he latched onto was the tablecloth, which he yanked down with him. There was a thump and the tinkle of glass breaking against the floor. Kent looked up from the floor, where he saw Mashkov’s hand now reaching to help him up. 

“You’re being okay?” Mashkov asked, pulling Kent off the ground as if he weighed nothing. Mashkov looked genuinely concerned about Kent’s fall. Kent honed in on his GM’s glare of disapproval and all the people looking their way, and the colossal, titanic, absolutely massive, red wine stain that had all but dyed Mashkov’s dress shirt burgundy. 

Now solidly on his feet, Kent blurted out: “Holy fucking shit, I am so goddamn sorry!” 

Kent immediately clapped his hand over his mouth as the gravity of the situation sank in. Some of the serving staff rushed over to evaluate the mess and reset the table, but Kent knew. The damage was done. Mashkov couldn’t mistake it now. Kent had definitely, clearly, objectively said words directly to him. For his part, Mashkov looked entirely confounded by the sequence of events. Kent’s entire body had to be red. He probably had a first degree burn from this level of embarrassment. 

“We’re never talking before?” Mashkov asked, voice devoid of the edge Kent had come to expect from their  _ intentionally few _ on-ice encounters. 

Kent unclasped his hand from his mouth and looked at the floor. “I owe you so many apologies, Mashkov.” 

“We talk more later, yes? Many not safe ears here,” Mashkov said, in what was likely his idea of a whisper. One that a normal human would consider an outdoor voice. 

“Right,” Kent said, pushing out a labored sigh. 

The mess was taken care of by the event staff, but the event planners didn’t have a spare dress shirt with a wide enough chest and shoulders for Mashkov, so he came back in a non-tailored, likely 3XL Aces shirt, his jacket buttoned as high as it could go. 

“Now I’m not wanting to win anything.” Mashkov said as he reclaimed his seat. “People will think I’m trade to desert team.” 

“Tater, I’m not trading you to anybody,” Martin said, patting his shoulder as he sat. 

“Hey,” Kent chirped, unable to hold back when his team was brought up. “I think the black and white suits you pretty well.”

“Suit me better than wine red, at least,” Mashkov chirped back. The lights dimmed and the NHL commissioner took the stage, conveniently making Kent’s blush less visible. Mashkov was surprisingly easy to talk to, but maybe the banter was only temporary. They still had to talk later. Kent’s stomach roiled at the thought.

“Settle down, boys, the show is starting,” Ms. Martin said. A (knowing?) smile crossed her lips. 

Eventually it came to the Hart trophy announcement. Kent won league MVP, for his second year in a row. The Aeros may have won the cup, but he was named the single best player in the league, again. The validation felt amazing, it nearly offset the embarrassment and anticipation. His speech this year was better prepared, but his nerves about talking to his soulmate were pulling the words he’d recited out of his head before he could say them. He was pretty sure he thanked everyone, made a small joke about Becca ditching in favor of making him an uncle and how he was looking at designs to extend his trophy case.

His GM shot him another withering gaze for his cocky remarks, all the hockey old boys did. His showboating was a disgrace to all the horribly dressed puffed up sportscasters on mainstream media. Kent couldn’t find the energy to give a shit about them. He wasn’t trying for the Lady Byng anyway. When the music began to motivate him to wrap up, he finished and carried his award back to his seat. Mashkov placed a warm hand on Kent’s knee and Kent immediately tensed. 

“Winning is suiting you, I think,” Mashkov said with a wink. Kent felt his cheeks burn yet again. 

Shit. What the fuck was going on. Maybe Anna was right to remind Kent not to pounce on him. Now that Kent was looking right at him, he did have handsome features. Sexy, scruffy stubble, tall and beefy, with a great build. A charming, faint scar over his cheek, and an inviting — _ How many of those teeth are even real? I mean if I’m dating a hockey player I guess I can’t be picky— _ smile. Dark hair and an accent also checked off a couple of Kent’s boxes — but… Kent halted his swell of fantasy. Mashkov was still going to hate him after Kent came clean. He had to stop imagining a future that wasn’t there.

When the awards show finally ended and people began to file back out to the lobby and bar to socialize, Kent stopped Mashkov before he stood. 

“I think the players’ lounge will be free of prying eyes and ears tonight if you know what I mean.” 

“Your house is far? My hotel is not too far.” 

Kent pushed through the urge to take Mashkov up on his suggestion, but he wanted to do this right, like Anna told him. His heart was pounding through the C on his chest, but he had waited too long to ruin this beyond the point of redemption by sleeping with Mashkov before the truth was out in the open. 

“No,” he managed to get out. “We need to talk before anything else happens.” Mashkov looked confused. “Can you also bring George?” Then Mashkov looked entirely lost. “We need to have this conversation with someone you can trust in the room.” 

“We need to talk to PR? Have plans?” 

Kent squeezed his temples, he hadn’t even thought that far ahead. He really didn’t want to be the first out hockey player. Especially not tonight, while his GM was already pissed off at him for making several scenes. “Not quite where I was going, but it’s a good thought.” Kent gave Mashkov a cocktail napkin with the door number and pin code to get in. “I’ll go up and make sure it’s safe to use.” 

“Okay, I tell George and we follow.” 

Kent paced the High Roller lounge. Mashkov and his AGM were taking their time getting here, which wasn’t relieving Kent’s nerves at all. He had already passed off the trophy to the engravers and he would be getting his plaque and commemorative photo soon enough. Each minute alone with his thoughts felt like an eternity. Finally he heard the door to the lounge click and swing open. Mashkov and Martin stepped in, looking around first at the wildly gaudy decor of the Vegas players’ lounge. It was probably busier than most other players’ lounges by a significant amount. The design team wanted as much Vegas per square inch as possible, from the carpets with silver reflective thread, to the cabaret style letters spelling out “ACES” in bright incandescent bulbs above the kitchenette. 

“Hey,” Kent said waving them over to the high-top table he was standing by. Mashkov poked at one of the low tables to see if the green felt was real. (They were actually realistic decals that look like craps and roulette tables.) 

“Vegas doesn’t cut costs anywhere, huh?” Martin said, still eyeing some of the decor. “But I digress, what's all this about, you two?”

“Parson and I,” Mashkov began, beating Kent to the punch. “We are soulmates.” Unprompted, Mashkov rolled up his pant leg, showing the very same, curse-laden apology Kent had accidentally thrown out earlier today. Goosebumps prickled Kent’s skin as he read the words, bottom to top, eyes settling on the ironic, yet fitting star-spangled ‘H’ in “Holy fucking shit” on Mashkov’s calf. 

“Oh!” she said, looking surprised. “Well, congratulations — but don’t you two don’t want some time to get better acquainted before telling people? 

“Was Kent’s request, said he want to talk with someone I trust, so…”

Kent sighed and prepared himself for the worst. “My therapist advised that I find a trustworthy neutral party present for when I say this.” Kent said, garnering puzzled looks. “The only other people that know I’m gay either couldn’t be here tonight or wouldn’t want to help me anyway, so it had to be someone Mashkov trusted.” 

“I’m not understanding,” Mashkov said. Kent’s stomach dropped.  _ Time to rip off the band-aid. _

Kent tossed his tie on the table and unbuttoned his dress shirt. He pulled the elastic of his undershirt aside, revealing his words to Mashkov and Martin. 

Mashkov mouthed the words as he read, processing the English and pulling Kent back to that memory. How fucked up he had been that day. Making the choice that he did for someone that wanted fuck-all to do with him now. Someone that he was going to have to face, come next October. Someone these two had likely already met in some capacity and formed opinions of already. Possibly ruining his chances with the person in front of him forever.

“But I did not say this?” Mashov said– asked. 

“You did say it,” Kent said assuredly as he re-buttoned his shirt. “You just didn’t say it today.” Kent’s voice hitched. “You said these words to me — seven years ago.” 

“Parson, That would have been–” Martin said, pensive, as if she was doing the math in her head. “The ‘08 draft?” 

Kent pressed his lips together and nodded. A tear rolled down his cheek as he shut his eyes tightly.

“Why you didn’t talk to me sooner?” Mashkov asked. He looked more confused, rather than angry or sad. Kent could tell he was racking his brain for answers that he wouldn’t be able to find alone. 

“I’m so sorry,” Kent said. “I really wish I had. I was just —” Kent felt more tears mounting the closer he got to the truth. “I was fucked up —” he sniffled, “and seventeen and stupid and—” 

Mashkov put a hand around his shoulder, Kent started to sob and he leaned into the touch. He had no idea where to go from here. He was already crying, so he might as well go all the way. He was also petrified that Mashkov was going to let him go as soon as he mentioned Zimms. 

Kent managed to stop crying enough to say something. “Ugh I’m sorry about this. I– talking about the draft weekend always sets me off.” Kent saw the light bulb click on in Martin’s head. The way Mashkov was holding him, Kent couldn’t gauge his reaction. Kent knew he should just finish the story now, especially since Martin had already figured it out. “So yeah, I– found Zimms in our hotel bathroom the day before. His parents and I had just gotten back from a meal that he said he didn’t wanna go to and–” Kent sniffled and tried to breathe as he dug out the memories. “I mean, I knew he was having a tough time too. We fought over him seeing my mark right before I left. Then the next day I just– floated through the draft. All I wanted to do was to visit him in the hospital.”

“Almost losing your best friend, getting drafted first for the NHL, having to move across the continent, and meeting your soulmate, in less than twenty-four hours–” Martin said, astonished. “That’s more of an emotional roller coaster than you’d see in a soap opera.”

“He wasn’t just my friend,” Kent said, feeling the tears welling up again. “The reason I didn’t say anything to you Mashkov, was because I was still in love with him.” 

“Zimmermann?” Mashkov questioned. “Is normal to have relationship other than soulmate, no? 

Kent wiped his nose with a tissue George had pulled from somewhere. “But, I’m still fucked up about it —” Kent choked out. “And he won’t even speak to me at this point, because I’m such a shit p-person.” 

Both Mashkov and Martin were quiet. They shared a look, probably wondering how the blubbering kid before them ever got to be an NHL captain. Kent wiped at his eyes. “Sorry, I’m a whiny mess, I just — that was all I needed to say. I put off talking to you because of Jack and then I kept pushing it back, so the more I waited, the harder it got. We can be done here, Mashkov. I just wanted you to know the truth, before you go.” 

“No, I’m not going, is okay. This is just a lot to understand at one time.” Mashkov started, pulling back from Kent to look at him. “I can see this was very difficult. Very scary for you, but is done now.” 

“I’ve wasted so much of your time. You could have been happy.”

“Still can be happy, is not wasting time if you’re not ready.” Mashkov put a hand back on Kent’s shoulder. “Words were on me for today and they come when they are supposed to, yeah?” 

Kent wiped away his tears with the back of his hand, unsure how to handle Mashkov’s reaction. “You’re not pissed that I ignored you for so long? You have good reason to never want someone like me, who lied to you and avoided you, rather than manning up and telling the truth.” 

“You are telling truth now, Kent,” Maskhov said. “I admit it was lonely without soulmate, but my friends and family were teaching me to be patient. Can’t be mad about what I didn’t know I’m miss.”

Kent didn’t know what to do. He had prepared himself for angry, sad, and any sort of negative reaction. He was at a loss for what to do with acceptance. 

Mashkov continued. “Now that I know you were struggling, I wish maybe get together sooner so I can help.”

“So now what?” Kent asked, finally regaining his composure. 

“Is like any other relationship, no? I’m asking beautiful man I’m meeting proper for the first time to evening date. We can have dessert and we get to know each other.” 

“I guess we can give it a try...” Kent trailed off sheepishly. Receiving genuine compliments was something he wasn’t used to. “Just let me wash my face in the bathroom so it doesn’t look like I’ve been bawling my eyes out for the last hour.” 

Georgia offered him what was left of the tissues from her jacket pocket. “If this is all settled then?” Kent looked back to Mashkov, who nodded. “Right, well, I’ll leave you two alone for the evening. Tater, we can start thinking about PR stuff tomorrow. You two just focus on enjoying yourselves alright?” 

“Thanks, Ms. Martin,” Kent said. 

“Georgia or George is fine, Mr. Parson,” she said with a dismissing wave. “Have fun on your date tonight and congratulations again on finding each other, you two.” 

“Thanks.” 

“If your higher ups or PR give you any trouble, give me a call okay? I’ll have your back, Kent. I know how difficult it can be to be an ‘outlier’ in the league.” Georgia Martin left the players’ lounge with another wave. Which just left him alone with Mashkov. 

“So...” Kent said into the empty room. 

“You can go clean up, Kent.” Mashkov said. “No need to worry, I’m not going anywhere.” 

Kent’s heart swelled. This was too much. “Okay, I won’t be long. Mashkov.”

“You call me Alexei now okay? We are soulmates, not business partner.” 

Kent laughed, it felt like all the weight he had been carrying dreading this day was evaporating. “Okay, Alexei. I’ll just be a few minutes, then I’ll show you this awesome froyo place far enough away from the strip where we’re less likely to get recognized.” 

“Take time, Kent. I be on your cat instagram,” he said and pulled out his phone. “Is weird if I like every post?” 

“Not weird at all,” Kent said with another laugh. “It just means you have a refined level of taste.” 

“Bye for now, soulmate.” Alexei said, pulling Kent into a warm hug. 

“I’ll be like five minutes, Alexei.” Kent said, mock-annoyed, yet Kent felt indescribably safe in this moment, wrapped up in Alexei’s arms. His soulmate wanted him, despite the shit he’d pulled. He wanted to take a chance to get to know him. He liked his cat photos. He was charming and handsome, with a sense of humor. It all felt too perfect to be real. Kent didn’t know if he was going to cry or explode from happiness. Alexei finally let him go and Kent hustled to the nearest bathroom. 

Kent checked his phone after all the night’s events.

**@nhl7tater** followed  **@officialNHLpurrson**

**Hetero of the year:** Congrats on the Hart! & hows your man? 

**Me:** He forgave me and put up with me crying all over him !!1! Taking him to deuces for a froyo date.

**Het of the year:** Sick! Proud of you dude! And congrats! Send a photo of the mountain of toppings. Can’t wait to meet him for real.

Kent picked the bag of tissues out of his pocket to wipe his face. He noticed George had– personalized tissues? Her name and business phone were on the package. 

**Me:** His AGM also knows about us, so people on his team might know about him? Also yeah I was a mess bc I couldn’t tell the story without mentioning you know who after all. 

**Het of the year:** You know I know that you know that crying isnt a bad thing. Glad for you that ppl are being cool. Congrats man, you deserve the world have fun be safe. 

**Best little psych office in NYC:** Congrats on the hart trophy again (and mashkov :fingers crossed: ???) little bro! Liz and I gotta nod off early, bc babies at hospitals are tough! but call me tomorrow, cool? 

**Me:** Its going a lot better than expected! Deets to follow. 

**@officialNHLpurrson** 47 new likes

  
  


Kent finished rinsing his face in the sink. When he headed back to the lounge, Alexei was still waiting for him. He perked up from his phone when he realized Kent was back.

“I can’t decide which photo is best! Your cat always is beautiful.” He inclined his phone at Kent so he could see the shot he was currently looking at. 

“You’re not wrong.” He walked over to Alexei’s side, “We can go now if you’re ready.” 

“Yes! They always serve little food at big event, is never enough.” 

“Of course,” Kent sent a message to the guy at the valet stand he was friendly with. “My car should be ready by the time we make it downstairs, you need to swing by the coatroom?” 

“Yes, they have other shirt,” Alexei said. Kent flushed,reminded of the crazy sequence that led them to where they were now. 

“Ugh, sorry again, I’ll pay to have it cleaned or buy you a new one—” 

“Is not big problem.” Alexei’s hand brushed the back of Kent’s hand. “I think you make it up to me.” Alexei wove his fingers in between Kent’s, Kent let it happen. His heart was beating way too fast for just holding hands. 

They boarded the thankfully empty elevator. The silence was too intense. Kent was the first one to break it. “So, George seems cool.” 

“Oh, yeah, best manager.” Alexei replied, nonchalant. 

“Why does she carry personalized tissues?” 

Alexei chuckled. “She say is because everyone comes to her to tell personal secret. She not sure why, but she notice, so she make sure to be ready.” 

”Huh, well, I guess being prepared is good.” 

“Mhm.” 

They were quiet again up until they got into Kent’s car. The silence was getting really awkward. Kent was starting to doubt again if Alexei was really up for dating him.

“Look, Alexei– if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to force yourself. I know I’m not the most likeable guy, and hell after making you wait so long you’d be well within your rights to–”

“No!” Alexei cut him off before Kent could finish. “I’m just– having many nerve. Very excited to finally meet soulmate, but I am worry about how to say. English is not my best, so if 

I’m get very excited, talk fast, accent gets worse.” 

“I think your accent is nice.” 

Alexei beamed at him. “Very kind of you to say.” Alexei gazed at him from the passenger’s seat. “I was lonely for a long time, I’m very glad we’re finally meeting.”

“Sure,” Kent agreed. He was still feeling apprehensive about the whole situation. There was still too much that could go wrong. “Thanks for giving me a chance. I hope I’m worth the wait.” 

Alexei was looking at Kent with deeply lidded eyes. “I know is soon, but can I kiss you?” 

Kent hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Alexei leaned across the console and their lips met. It was just a quick chaste peck, but Kent felt electrified. “More?” he asked. 

Alexei moved back into Kent’s space and kissed him again. It was warm and Kent felt himself relax into the contact. He took a deep breath and Alexei pulled back. “This is nice.” 

“Yeah,” Kent said. “We could stay like this a while.” 

“We still getting dessert, yes?” 

Kent chuckled. “Absolutely.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Providence, Rhode Island, October 17 2015, Age 25:**

  
  


“Fuck, fucking shit!” Kent yelled at himself as soon as he got back to his hotel room in Providence. He tossed his bag rather forcefully into the corner. He just had to go and get competitive and fuck everything up. Everything was going great between him and Alexei, they were video chatting every day they could, trying to make the distance feel as small as possible.

But then he had to go and watch Jack’s fucking interviews. The media was playing up their rivalry as if an out of conference game was ever gonna generate a lasting rivalry. Sure, Jack saying it was ancient history to him stung a little, but Kent wasn’t intending to make anything major out of it either. He was just going to give a nod, then play the game like any other, but Jack completely sidestepped him for a goal and it awoke something primal in him. Kent  _ HAD _ to score. And indeed he scored. The Aces had won, to the ire of the entire city of Providence and probably everyone watching that wasn’t a Vegas fan. The commentators would likely be going over this play for the rest of the season and probably cite “the only way Parson could beat Zimmermann” if they lose to Providence in their rematch in Vegas. 

The worst part though was how badly it had pissed Alexei off. Kent lost control while he was seeing red trying to win. It was a dangerous play, but it was already a tense game and overtime would have been torture. The end result was Kent crashing the net and taking the Falcs’ goalie down with him. Snow was Alexei’s best friend on the team and Alexei had lifted Kent up with one arm to yell at him about it. Kent was completely and entirely fucked. 

He was really starting to fall for his soulmate and Kent was apparently willing to throw his relationship to the wolves to beat Jack fucking Zimmerman in regulation. The threat of injury to his soulmate’s closest friend was just a neat added bonus that Kent had decided to stack on there just for the hell of it. Alexei was supposed to take Kent to his favorite restaurant in Providence tonight. This was going to be their first night together in  _ FOREVER _ and Kent just had to be a colossal idiot and wash their relationship down the drain.

Kent had to get out of the hotel. If Swoops got back he was just going to give him shit over making risky plays again. Plus Swoops knew he was supposed to go out with Alexei after the game. He’d probably ask too many questions about why he was still there and figure out why Kent wasn’t going. Then he’d ask about if things were going okay and that would just be too much… Swoops was his best friend, but Kent didn’t want to be mothered by him right now. 

Kent left the hotel room, still in his game-day suit. He took the elevator down to the lobby and spotted his teammates crowding around the hotel bar. Not many other establishments would probably be friendly to the Aces after that controversial win. 

  
  


He just had to say a few words in front of the team about meeting a friend, wink at Swoops and boom, alibi established. Lucky raised a hand in greeting when he saw Kent approaching. Kent adopted his “hanging with the boys” persona immediately. 

“Lucky! I’m shocked that you're not trying to make a break for Samwell tonight,” Kent said. 

“Eh, after beating their favorite captain in that way? They’re just as likely to burn me at the stake. Besides, none of the active players really know me anymore.” 

“I thought Samwell hockey was one for all, or something,” Swoops chimed in. 

  
“We have each other’s backs, you mean,” Lucky corrected. “You remember Shitty, right Parser?” 

“Moustache?” Kent asked. 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he said, nodding. “He told me to tell you not to take out Lardo if you’re gonna play pong with them again.”

Swoops gave Kent a look to indicate what he thought of him playing drinking games with college kids.

"I think I’d rather play the Falcs again that lose that badly at beer pong.” Kent shrugged, he mimed looking at his watch. “Alright boys, I got somewhere to be, see you guys tomorrow.” 

A few calls of “Get it Parse!” echoed through the peanut gallery as Kent walked away. Once he was a block away from the building a text message notification sounded from his pocket. 

  
  
  


**Het of the Year:** Don’t stay out too late cap

  
  


Kent rolled his eyes at Swoops’ overprotectiveness and started heading towards the waterfront. Kent wandered downtown Providence, regretting that he hadn’t picked up his coat; years of living in Vegas had eroded his resistance to even the mild chill of Providence in November. Kent meandered along the edge of the water, looking at the boats on the marina. Buying a boat crossed his mind. Lake Mead wasn’t too far from his house in Vegas, was it? But then he’d have to get a car big enough to pull it with a hitch, a boat trailer, a license and insurance… Too many logistical details for a flight of fancy. 

It was kind of late on a Sunday, but apparently the bars were still packed. Kent wondered if he could slide into one without being noticed. Not entirely impossible. Though Providence was technically a hockey town since it had no other pro teams, he had likely just been on TV in most of them. He probably still was on TV, the recap people would probably be talking about his last minute “good goal” for the rest of the week. He looked out over the water. After a few minutes his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. 

**Het of the Year:** Mashkov was just here and asked for you. Scraps got defensive bc of the game but I told him you left already, did something happen? 

Kent thought about not answering for a minute, but he knew better. Swoops would send out a search party to all the surrounding bars if he blew him off.

**Me:** Having an on ice altercation counts as something happening.

**Het of the Year:** Are you for real dude

**Me:** You were there, I picked beating zimms over playing fair. He’s right to be pissed at me. 

**Het of the Year:** He seems genuinely concerned Parser

  
  


**Lexi:** Did you go to restaurant ahead of me? I don’t remember if I’m telling you name. 

  
  


Kent sighed at his phone. Maybe he should just chuck it into the damn ocean.

  
  


**Het of the Year:** Lucky showed him your location on snapchat, I think he’s gonna try to meet you.

  
  


“Fucking meddling goalies,” Kent muttered to himself.

**Lexi:** I’m coming to pick you up okay? Troy is told me some of what happened. 

  
  


“Bunch of traitors,” he groused. At least Alexei wasn’t angry enough to cancel outright. He tapped out a sunny-sounding reply and settled in to wait. 

**Me:** Thanks! I’ll just wait here then. 

Kent continued to watch the waves. It was windy and he was getting pretty cold. Kent was really getting tired of feeling like shit all the time. He was dating his soulmate and he was starting to feel like things could work out. Somehow Jack still had a hold over him. An unwitting hold, a power that he didn’t even have to speak to Kent to trigger. Based on their last conversation though, who would want to talk to someone that insulted them like Kent insulted Jack? Why did Jack have to end up on the same team as Alexei? If Jack was on any other team, Kent could just have his meltdowns without endangering his soulmate’s friends in the process. Alexei was friendly with Jack too apparently. Maybe Kent needed Alexei traded to the Aces. 

Alexei pulled up in a silver sports car just as Kent was contemplating if it would be easier to start faking injuries for Falcs games again. 

“Hi,” Kent said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened between them. 

“Hey,  _ kotik _ , you still want dinner?” Alexei asked. Kent wondered if he was keeping a calm facade out of a sense of obligation. 

“Do you still want to get dinner with me?” 

“Of course,  _ milaya _ , now get in before you catch cold.” Kent sat and Alexei reached towards him, then hesitated. “Hug okay right now?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Kent let himself relax into the hug. The car was incredibly toasty. Alexei had the heat on blast for him. “Thanks for picking me up, Alyosha.” 

“Restaurant is not far,” Alexei said, pulling away from the curb. It seemed like he was avoiding the real cause of why he had to pick Kent up. 

“You can be mad at me,” Kent admitted. “I made some idiotic choices tonight.” 

“No, Kenny, I’m sorry for yelling and make you feel scared of me during game.” 

“Wait, what?” Kent could not believe his ears. Alexei was apologising to him? 

“Wasn’t cleanest way to end a hockey game, true, but you are winning and we are losing, is over. I have to accept this.” 

“Alexei, I did that because I felt like I needed to beat Jack more than anything.” Kent  _ knew  _ he was the one in the wrong here, he deserved much worse.

“Was bad moment for everyone. Media is make it even worse for you.”

“How are you not yelling at me right now?” Kent demanded. “I could have hurt your friend, just to prove a point to my ex.” They stopped at a light and Alexei put on his turn signal. His face was difficult to read in the odd shadows from the flickering streetlights. 

“We are all doing things without thinking sometimes. You could be hurt from being bury in people. I think at time is more important to yell at you instead of seeing if you are okay.” His tone was serene. Apparently, he really wasn’t angry.

“It would have been weird if you did that after I scored against you. Angry is the reaction the fans want to see from defense when I take out their goalie.” 

“Kent, I’m not wanting to ever hurt you, even if you play like rat on ice.” Alexei gave Kent a wry smile, without taking his eyes off the road. “Beside, therapist is telling me, is no good to stay with anger.” 

“You have a therapist?” Kent was shocked. Alexei seemed like a totally normal guy when he wasn’t playing the enforcer on the ice. 

“George likes to make sure everyone has option. Hockey and fame is difficult sometimes, you know.” 

Oh, lord, did Kent ever know. “I’d been talking to my therapist about it and I was going to treat it like a normal game. I thought I was ready to deal with playing against him. I guess this proves I’m not.”

“Then we must try again and do better for next time. Don’t want you to hate coming to see me because is too hard to play against Zimmboni.” 

“I’ll talk to my therapist again tomorrow probably. I just want to take my mind off of it for now.” 

“I may have some ideas for clear head,” Alexei said with a wink. 

“So we’re going back to your place after dinner?” 

“If you want.” The GPS announced that they had arrived and Alexei pulled off to the adjoining lot. 

“That sounds nice.” Kent said, feigning innocence. “Maybe we can watch a movie or something.” 

“Loser’s pick,” Alexei said, backing into a spot away from other cars. “I want to watch new nature documentary.” 

“You’re just saying that because you know I’m going to fall asleep immediately.” 

“If is really boring maybe I think of something else,” he hinted, punctuated with a wink. 

“Thanks for not hating me, babe,” Kent said with a sigh. “I have a lot of shit going on in my head and I know it must be hard to deal with a mess of a soulmate like me.” 

Alexei put his hand over Kent’s from across the console. “I’m never going to hate you,  _ solnyshko. _ Always happy to be waiting, is better to be patient and get everything right.” 

Kent adored the way Alexei was making him feel, even if his patience and forgiveness didn’t make sense to him. Kent shoved down his nerves and tried to come up with a way to tell Alexei how much he cared for him. 

“I love you, Alexei,” he said, frankly. Not the most unique or memorable line, but it got to the heart of what Kent wanted to say. 

“I love you too, Kent.” Alexei replied like it was old news, despite it being the first time they admitted it out loud. Kent was still getting used to it, but he was getting more comfortable expressing his affection verbally. They kissed briefly before Alexei leaned back again. “We have all night and tomorrow off to kiss, yes?” 

“Yeah?” Kent replied, slightly confused by the question. “We don’t leave till tomorrow night.” 

“Good, because we are not too late for reservation. I hope restaurant hasn’t given away our table yet.” 

Kent laughed, loud and open. Regardless of the drama of all that had transpired, Alexei was still excited to be with him (and motivated by good food.)

“Come on, ‘ _ nyshko, _ ” Alexei said getting out of the car. “I tell you this place has best seafood and pasta in Providence.”

“I’m right behind you, babe.” Kent sent a quick text to Swoops to let him know that everything was alright and he was hopefully going to spend the night out of the hotel. Swoops would probably still send out the search party anyway. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Providence, RI, July 7 2016, Age 26:**

Kent woke from a midday nap feeling sweaty and gross. Unfortunately, it came with the territory of sharing a bed with his soulmate and Kit in the middle of July. Alexei was still dozing, with Kit nestled under his arm. The pair had become fast friends since Kent had decided to spend the summer in Providence.

Alexei needed to stay in town for physical therapy, but Kent wanted to come and help him however he could. They were trying to spend as much quality time together as possible before they had no choice but to go back to FaceTime dates. Thankfully, it seemed that they didn’t really get tired of one another in person. 

Kent surmised it was likely one of those secret soulmate perks. They basically only argued over what to eat and the gross lovey-dovey shit like who loved whom more. Which often devolved into pet naming contests. Alexei usually won, because he knew them in like four languages. Or playful ‘ _ watch cast, kotik’ _ wrestling matches that Kent usually won, because even though Alexei had size advantage, he was surprisingly ticklish. Both always ended in kissing or more, which had them trapped in a cycle of having to reheat the argued-over food before they got distracted again. 

Kent tried to slide silently out of the sheets without disturbing Alexei. Kit made a small  _ mrr _ noise and opened an eye at him. Kent put a finger over his lips and shushed her. He quickly rinsed himself in Alexei’s spacious shower, then wandered over to their intermingled “clean” laundry pile. He picked up some tight shorts and a huge Falcs tank top that was definitely Alexei’s. Kent crept into the living room and started an episode of Real Housewives muted. He put on subtitles, but he could probably quote the episodes from memory.

“Kenny?” Alexei’s voice called out minutes later. Kent got up and leaned on the doorframe. 

“Yeah, babe?”

“If I’m order food and go back to sleep, you’re being awake to answer door?” Alexei asked. He couldn’t cook at all, so he was a regular of basically every restaurant that delivered in Providence. 

“Sure,” he said. “My only request is nothing too greasy. No burgers or pizza.” 

“I think Greek is good for hot day like today. Grilled meat and cucumber salad.”

“I’m game.” Kent sat on the edge of the bed and kissed Alexei’s cheek while he punched the order into whatever food-delivery app he was on. Kit rubbed her head on the underside of his arm, refusing to be ignored. 

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” Kent said, scratching along her jaw. “You’re still my princess, even if prince charming is in the picture.” She curled tightly back up into Alexei’s side.

“She really like me now,” Alexei observed. 

“There was the first week or so where you gave her treats all the time .” 

“I know how to get attention of cat,” Alexei said, stroking Kit while he was still watching his phone. “You’re wanting chicken, beef, or lamb?” 

“Chicken’s good,” he said. “No onion, light tomato.” 

“Okay,” Alexei said, finishing the order with a yawn. “Shouldn’t be long, app say twenty-five.” 

“Rest up, babe.” Kent ran his hand down Alexei’s arm. “I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thank you,  _ kotik. _ ” 

“They weren’t too hard on you today were they?” 

“They are say that starting to put weight on again is hardest part, will get easier soon.” 

“Yeah,” Kent trailed off. “Small blessing that its during the offseason, so you don’t feel pressured to rush back in.” 

“Hm,” he pouted in response. Alexei’s eyelids looked heavy. 

“I’ll let you nap.” Kent stood and adjusted the curtain so less light was encroaching on the bedroom. 

“Thank you, Kenny.” 

“Anytime, Alyosha.” Kent eased the door closed, leaving a crack so Kit could slip out if she wanted. 

Kent settled back in to watch the show he’d started. They were getting on a yacht for some fancy party. This one ended with the blonde one pushing the brunette into the pool over a spilled drink and then bringing someone’s husband into the argument. Good times. 

Kent picked up one of the bell toys Alexei had bought for Kit. Alexei had spared no expense in getting his house ready for Kit. As if Kent wasn’t going to bring anything for a month long visit. Though he had to admit, not having to pack a litter box was convenient. 

He rolled the toy around in his hand and the bell chimed faintly. Kit poked her head out of the door and made a small sound. Kent jingled the bell again to entice her into coming closer. Kit was halfway there when the doorbell rang and Kit fled. Kent checked the time, it had only been about fifteen minutes. Damn, that delivery was fast. 

“Wallet is on counter,” Alexei said sleepily from the bedroom. 

“Got it.” Kent went to the kitchen to get Alexei’s wallet and the doorbell rang again. “Just a minute!” he hollered in the direction of the door. Naturally, Alexei’s wallet wasn’t were he said it was. He pulled open a couple drawers trying to find it. 

“Babe, check your nightstand and whatever pants you wore to P.T.”

Alexei groaned in lieu of a response. The delivery person knocked.

“Fuck it, I’ll just pay, I know where my wallet is.” Kent half-sprinted into the bedroom and grabbed his wallet off the windowsill near his side of the bed. Alexei was rousing slowly. He wasn’t even dressed beyond underwear.

Kent re-entered the main area of the house and saw the front door swinging open. Kent froze and looked for Kit. Thankfully she seemed to be in the room and not bolting for the door. 

“Hey Tater!” an unfamiliar voice called out. “Jack just used his key so you wouldn’t have to strain yourself.”  __

_ Jack?  _

“We just got back from Montreal today and Bits just had to bring you pie, haha.” 

_ JACK. _

Alarm bells were going off in Kent’s head. Logically, he knew Jack was going to find out eventually, but he was not ready for this to happen today. Kent wasn’t sure if there ever would have been a day where he was willing to have this conversation on purpose. Kent’s first instinct was to go and hide back in the bedroom, but his legs didn’t want to move. 

Frozen to the spot, wallet in hand. Kent watched as Jack Zimmerman and his boyfriend entered and shut the door behind them. Then he watched their faces, stricken with confusion as they realized that he was not, in fact, Alexei. 

“What in the world—?” Zimms’ boyfriend asked. 

“Kent?” Zimms himself looked equally perplexed. 

“Kenny, everything is alright?” Alexei called from the bedroom. 

Kent was standing stock-still. He didn’t know what to say or how to react. There was a clattering sound from the bedroom and Kit dashed out. Kent turned on Zimms and his boyfriend wordlessly to make sure Alexei hadn’t fallen or something trying to get up. Thankfully, he was still sitting on the bed. 

“Kit is knocking over crutch when she moved,” Alexei said. “What is going on?” 

“You have some surprise guests,” Kent said, a bit cooly. “You’ll probably have to smooth things over.” 

“Who?” he asked, still processing everything. “What they said to you?” 

“Oh, they haven’t said anything yet, but I think they might want to.” Kent was trying to seem like he wasn’t freaking out. He had no clue if it was working. Kent heard them talking behind the door. “It’s Jack and his boyfriend.” 

“Ah,” Alexei nodded in understanding. “Sorry, didn’t know they were coming, I can go talk.”

“I’ll stay here till you explain everything.” 

“Zimmboni isn’t bad guy, Kenny.” 

“Maybe not to you,” Kent said, voice going sharp. “I’ve given him a few reasons.”

Alexei sighed, “Fine, you hand me crutch. I will talk.” 

“Thanks, Alyosha.” Kent lilted, grabbing the crutch Kit had knocked over. “Shit, is Kit still out there?”

“I’ll leave door cracked for her,” Alexei said. Kent helped him get up. “Shouldn’t be too long.”

“Thanks... sorry, I just don’t trust myself to say the right thing to him.”

“Kenny, this is very hard for you, I can tell.” Alexei pulled Kent into a quick hug, then went out to talk to Zimms. 

Kent laid flat on the bed, He could only vaguely make out the sounds of voices. They weren’t speaking at more than a normal level. Zimms was never one for conflict anyway. It was always Kent’s fault. He always came on too strong, said the wrong thing, didn’t say enough. Kent would twist the knife, Zimms just reacted like anyone else would.

Kent heard a meow, pulling him out of his reflection. He turned on his side to see Kit on the floor pawing at the edge of the mattress. He created a space for her and patted it. She jumped up to join him in the bed. 

“We’re really in it now, Kit.” 

“ _ Mrrr? _ ” Kent curled up next to her, stroking slowly down Kit’s back. He passed a few minutes like that, until he heard the doorbell again. The food delivery, probably. Alexei reappeared at the door. 

“Food is here,  _ solnyshko _ ,” Alexei said. “I borrow your wallet this time?”

Kent chuckled. “Still can’t find yours?” 

“No, must be in old pants somewhere,” he replied, looking around the messy room sheepishly. 

“Okay, here.” Kent fished his wallet out of his shorts pocket, leaning carefully so as not to disturb Kit.

“You can come out of room if you want,” Alexei said. “I’m explaining everything, they are being cool.” 

Kent took a deep breath. All he had to do was stay calm and be polite. They might ask about him and Alexei, but as long as he kept it current, it was all good. Right? 

“I’ll try,” Kent said.

He emerged from the bedroom behind Alexei, Zimms and his boyfriend looked up when they entered. Zimms’ expression was his normal, stoic face. The boyfriend wasn’t as good at concealing his nerves. The kid was clearly worried.  _ Ah! _ Kent remembered then where he had seen the guy before, other than on TV at the cup final, that is. He had been there the last time he went to visit Zimms at Samwell. Had they been together then?  _ Shit. _ This guy was Zimms’ soulmate. He had overheard Kent coming onto Zimms at that party. He probably hated Kent’s guts if Zimms had bothered to even tell him anything about their relationship in Juniors.

Alexei was appropriately the one to yank Kent back to the present.

“I’ll get food, you relax,  _ kotik _ .” 

Kent selected the chair opposite Zimms at the kitchen table. Not being directly adjacent to him felt — safer somehow. Even if that person probably also didn’t like him. 

“So–” Zimms started. Kent’s eyes shot up, making contact with Zimms’. “You and Tater, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Kent said. “It’s nice...” Kent trailed off. He was already looking for Alexei to save him from this awkward conversation. 

“He seems happy,” Zimms said, flatly.

Zimms’ boyfriend looked like he wanted to say something. Thankfully, Alexei returned with the food. 

“Okay, Zimmboni, Little B, I am sorry, but we didn’t order enough to share,” Alexei said. “Would have, if I knew you were coming to visit today.” 

Zimms’ boyfriend ‘Little B’ blushed. A minute amount of the tension began to fade. “It’s alright, Tater. We ate before we came anyhow.”

“Ah, right, Kent,” Zimms said. “This is my soulmate, Eric. We met at Samwell.” Zimms put his hand over Eric’s and they shared a fond look. 

“I think we met briefly at that one kegster, hon.” Eric said to Zimms. Kent kicked himself mentally for his stupidity back then.

“Right, sorry about all that,” Kent said. “I wasn’t in a good spot and I, uh — did some shit I’m not proud of.” 

Alexei selected a chair next to Kent, opened the containers of food and spread it out. Kent’s stomach rumbled as he took in the smells. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was now — 4pm. Staying with Alexei really made the days fly by. Alexei handed Kent a plastic fork. 

“Jack, honey, maybe we should just let them eat,” Eric said.

“You don’t need to leave,” Alexei said. Kent didn’t say anything; he sort of hoped they would though. 

“No, Tater, it’s fine,” Zimms said, standing. “We were just going to drop the pies off and say hello.” 

“Maybe we can get better acquainted before y’all start training and Kent goes back to Vegas.” 

“Is good idea, next time please call before, yes?” 

“Right, sorry!” Eric said. He turned to Kent. “Do you have a favorite pie, Kent?” 

“Uh,” Kent had never thought about that before. “I usually like chocolate or peanut butter for desserts.” 

“I can work with that,” Eric said. He put a hand over his chin, thinking. 

“Okay?” Kent was confused. It was a bizarre question, especially coming from his ex’s soulmate. 

“Trust me, Kent,” Zimms chirped. “You’ll understand why half my team is trying to steal him away from me when you try the pies he brought.” Zimms smiled at Eric. This was an olive branch. Today wasn’t the ideal meeting, but this was the first time they hadn’t started arguing immediately since their days in juniors. They would have to talk out their shit eventually, but it was a start. 

Zimms and Eric left on an amicable note. Kent’s eyes wandered back over to Alexei, who was halfway through his meal already and eyeing the pie boxes. 

“They are good friends,” Alexei said, mouth full. “B’s pie is amazing also.” 

“Strawberry chiffon, blueberry, and pecan? These can’t be on your recovery diet plan, babe.” 

“Shhhh,” Alexei shushed Kent, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I’m letting you have some of pecan and strawberry if you’re keeping quiet to Nate.” 

“I can’t try the blueberry?” Kent asked, interest piqued.

“Nope,” Alexei said pulling the box over to himself. “This one is best of best.” 

Kent felt a competitive streak coming on. “I couldn’t even have one bite?” 

Alexei guarded the box with the crook of his elbow. “ _ Nyet.” _

Kent set his fork down and poked a finger into Alexei’s ribs, where he was most ticklish. “Nothing I could say would convince you?” 

Kent saw the spark in Alexei’s eye. “Can’t wrestle me here. What if I’m falling out of chair and straining leg?” 

“I guess we’ll have to relocate then,” Kent said with a smirk. He punctuated his point by wiggling his fingers across Alexei’s side, who recoiled from the touch. 

“We never finish a meal living like this,” Alexei lamented, laughing a little. 

“Fine, I can postpone just this once,” Kent said, turning back to his food. “But I am getting a taste of that blueberry pie later.”

“I like to see you try.”

“I think I’m up to the challenge.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Las Vegas, NV, May 27 2017, Age 26:**

Kent pulled up to the driveway of his home in the Las Vegas suburbs. He felt like he was about to fall asleep despite it being 8 AM local time. They had one extra day between games four and five. Fortunately, he wasn’t coming home to an empty house.

Alexei had gotten in the night before. He’d had more choice, since he wasn’t traveling with a team. The Falconers had missed their chance for a back to back cup in the conference finals to the Penguins. Alexei wasn’t entirely over it, but losing game 7 to a recalled goal in overtime would leave him fuming for a lot longer than Alexei had been. He was pretty sure Jack was still upset, but they were already out of the country, celebrating Eric’s graduation and NCAA title somewhere nuts, like Bali. Kent was fuzzy on the details at the moment. He blamed jet lag and cup final stress.

“Lexi!” he called out as he opened the door. “I’m finally back!” 

“Kitchen!” was the reply. 

Kent found his boyfriend attempting to scramble eggs in a massive skillet Kent had no memory of purchasing. 

“Morning!” Alexei said with a smile. Kit was on the floor, sitting patiently, waiting for any scraps to hit the floor. 

Kent dropped his bag onto a barstool, then sidled up to Alexei, taking up a position right behind him. Somewhat awkward, with Alexei being a head taller and a ways broader. Kent, however, was content to press his body into his boyfriend’s and not think about hockey for a minute.

“It’s that bad, Kenny?” 

“They say the third time's the charm, but I feel like my dark circles have dark circles, babe.”

Kent squeezed his arms tighter around Alexei, breathing him in and exhaling all his stress. He wanted to melt into him, to stop existing for a minute, to have his joint aches and bruises he was playing through to disappear and be replaced by the warmth he felt with his soulmate. 

“Let me finish making eggs and we can cuddle rest of the day.” 

“Promise?” Kent asked, loosening his grip. 

“Of course,  _ milaya. _ ” 

Kent sprawled himself over one of the barstools. He put his head down on the granite counter and relished the cool feeling of the stone against his skin. When he looked up again a pot of coffee and a carafe of orange juice had materialized in front of him. 

“Ugh, babe, you’re the best,” Kent said. 

Alexei set down a plate of toast, with a side of Eric’s jam and some fancy European butter onto the counter. 

“You’re going all out today, Alyosha.” 

“I’m still not cooking much,” Alexei said sheepishly. “Is just eggs and toast.” 

“But you’re making up for it with quality of service. Using dishes I don’t know why I even have.” 

“Anything to help you relax,” he said. He took a mug out of the cabinet and poured a coffee for Kent, leaving just the right amount of space for Kent to add the cream. Which Alexei had also placed in a tiny pitcher. 

“Okay there’s no way I had this thing laying around,” Kent said, gesturing to the cream container. 

“Becca told me where she put your good dishes.” 

“She must have bought it and stashed it when she helped me move in.” Kent took a sip of the coffee, it was fantastic. “Ugh, I’m back from the dead.” 

“Good,” Alexei moved a generous portion of eggs onto a plate. “Want any extra protein?” 

“Nah,” Kent said. “I’m just gonna eat when I’m hungry today.”

He probably should eat more, but they were up 3-1 in the series and he wanted to stop feeling like he was stuffed all the time. Five thousand calories a day really starts to feel like shit the longer you have to do it. 

“Whatever you say,  _ kotik _ .” 

“If it loses me the game tomorrow, you can make me an egg white omelette with turkey bacon, grilled chicken, spinach and whey protein.” 

“Sounds gross.” 

Alexei sat down beside Kent at the counter, with an equally big plate of eggs. He put his hand over Kent’s, rubbing gently with his thumb.

“Crosby swears by his clean protein diet.” 

“Nobody actually likes turkey bacon.” 

“It’s alright, but I suppose I’ve never had the real thing to compare it to.” 

“Is millions of times better, but I burn it whenever I try to cook myself,”

Kent laughed, low and sleepy. “You really have to get Eric to teach you some stuff.” 

“Why you can’t teach me?” 

“If I teach you the recipes I know, then we’ll eat the same 3 things forever, babe.”

“You want us forever?” Alexei asked, through a full mouth. Calmly veering the conversation into a totally different direction. 

“Alexei, I...” he lost his train of thought, imagining the future. At this point he wasn’t envisioning a version without Alexei in it. Forever was the right word. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t say such serious things when you concentrated on cup.” Alexei quickly took another bite of toast to shut himself up, but Kent could see the nervousness in his eyes. 

“I think — I want forever, yeah. I love you, Alyosha. I don’t want to be without you in my life ever again,” Kent finally replied. 

Alexei blushed, then finished chewing and directed his gaze at Kent. “I feel the same, Kenny.” 

“It’s going to be tough,” Kent said. “I’m not moving teams voluntarily and I don’t plan to retire anytime soon.” 

“We make distance work so far,” Alexei said. “My contract up next year, then who knows?” He shrugged.

“You have so many friends in Providence, though.” Kent said.

“It’s not goodbye forever,” he said. “They still have reason to come to Vegas as long as they play. I have friends in Russia that I see once each year. Still good friends.” 

“Yeah,” Kent said flatly. Most of his friends were here in Vegas, save for the few in Providence and Boston. Even fewer were in New York. “If you came to play here, would you be okay with me being your captain?” 

“Universe gave you C for reason, Kenny,” Alexei replied.

“It’s thanks to you, babe.” Kent said. “I’m finally starting to feel like I’ve earned it.” 

“Whoever is out there giving words to people knows you are the best.” Alexei turned to Kent and gave him a sloppy kiss with tongue on the cheek. “Best captain. Best boyfriend.”

“Ugh, gross!” Kent exclaimed, dramatically wiping away the spit and rubbing it on Alexei’s shirt.

“I show you gross.” Alexei stuck his tongue out and dove towards Kent, aiming to give him a full Brad Marchand-style facial. 

Kent stuck one hand against his boyfriend’s tongue and poked the other under his armpit, tickling along the pressure point. “Gah, you’re like a damn puppy,” he said. attempting to shove Alexei away. He finally relented and Kent took a swig of his juice. He actually loved when Alexei got physically affectionate with him. It forced Kent to engage with his feelings more directly. Less time to overthink, just loving freely.

“After we finish eating we can take the cuddling to the couch or the bed, babe.” 

“Sorry,” Alexei said, “I’ll let you finish.” 

“No prob,” Kent said, running his hand through his hair. It was greasy. “I need a shower too. I’m still gross from the plane.”

They finished breakfast with a fairly usual exchange of chirps. Kent got texts from his sister about when she’d be arriving that night. Alexei was going to pick her up. He wished that Liz could have come too, but Caleb wasn’t even a year old yet. He and Alexei were going to go to New York for a week in the summer. Becca and Liz deserved some extra help for a while.

Then Kent visualized Alexei holding a baby —

_ Fuck.  _

After his shower, Kent flopped into his bed. Alexei was scrolling through his phone in the dark. Kent nestled into Alexei’s side and pulled the sheets up around him. His bed with his soulmate next to him was nearly enough to let him fall asleep immediately.

“So, forever,” Kent said into Alexei’s shoulder.

”Yes,  _ kotik... _ Forever. _ ”  _ He set his phone on the nightstand and reciprocated the hug. 

“Does that mean you want to get married one day?” Kent looked up at Alexei, who looked unnerved by the sudden question. 

“Someday soon I hope,” Alexei said, a blush obviously painting his face. 

“Me too,” Kent said. He laid his hand on Alexei’s stomach and his head on Alexei’s chest. “I’d marry you as soon as you’re ready, Alyosha.” Kent pressed a kiss to Alexei’s lips. 

“Mean it?” Alexei asked.

“Absolutely, Lexi.”

Alexei wiggled out of Kent’s grasp, which Kent met with a pout. His expression quickly changed when he saw Alexei pull a black velvet box from the nightstand. 

“Babe!?” Kent said incredulously. He was totally alert and awake now. 

“Was going to save for after final,” Alexei said. “But I don't want to wait any longer.” 

“Well, you already know what my answer is,” Kent said. 

“At least let me ask first,” Alexei said, already smiling ear-to-ear. He rolled in the bed so he was facing Kent, then started. 

“Kent, you are the love of my life, please make me happiest man and marry me.” Alexei opened the box, revealing a simple gold band, with a small line of diamonds on the outer edge. 

“Alexei, yes, a million times yes!” Kent felt his eyes getting misty. “Put it on me.”

The ring fit perfectly. Kent wondered who Alexei conspired with to get his ring size, but at the moment he was more concerned with kissing his  _ fiancé.  _

“We can look for a ring for you after the final is over,” Kent said, planting another kiss on Alexei’s lips. “Now I really want to finish it tomorrow.” 

“Can’t wait, Kenny,” Alexei said, meeting his lips again.

“Once I send some photos, babe, I’ll make good on that promise of a day in bed.” Alexei smiled wolfishly, leaning hard into Kent’s side. Kent fired off photos of his ringed hand to his sister, Swoops, and Jack. Then he directed his attention back to Alexei. 

“Love you forever, Kent,” Alexei said through a kiss after Kent had put down his phone.

“Love you forever, Alexei,” Kent replied. They slotted together in the bed and settled in for a long day of each other’s company. No more hockey talk, no plans, just them. .

Kent couldn’t believe how far he’d come in the year since he’d met Alexei. He was learning to love himself, loving his  _ FIANCÉ _ , and reconciling with his past. He felt like he was finally deserving of the C on his chest. With all the positivity and growth that had happened in the last year, Kent was so happy he almost didn’t care if he lost the cup final... 

Almost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was a blast to write, thanks again to my wonderful betas, cheer readers, and artists. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr @bigspicysenpai, where I blog about hockey, both real and fictional. As well as whatever else strikes my fancy.


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